Saudade
by Ruxandra Antonescu
Summary: Saudade, the feeling of intense longing for a person you love but is now lost. Saudade, a haunting desire of what is gone. Saudade, a pleasure you suffer, an ailment you enjoy. (BMWW)
1. Chapter 1

_Writer's block be damned! How LONG has it been?! (LOL)  
This one shot is dedicated to 2 friends: 1 online, the other IRL. Gaz1247 pm'd me a long time ago proposing a collaboration for a BMWW story in a setting very similar to the one here. Will that story ever be written? I don't know. Only time will tell, haha... As for my IRL friend, he very recently challenged me to write a story with a "the one who got away" theme and et voila, MAJOR lightbulb moment, I came up with this convoluted idea. So, I daydreamed. I googled. A LOT. Lifted quotes/concepts here and there. Twisted facts. Wove in the fiction. Tore my hair out at the inconsistencies. Engaged in frenzied typing until I went cross-eyed. Backspaced. Reworded. Backspaced again. Tore more of my hair out. One week later, I am bald but at least I have a "new" origin story in a "new" dimension in my Ruxyverse. So, please be_ _kind. It's been a while... ;)_

* * *

 **SAUDADE**

 _Lacedaemon, southeastern Peloponnese, 503 BC_

Half hidden in the shadowy pillars of his villa, Timaeus watched his wife, Melitta kneel down and give his son a tight embrace. He frowned, thinking that he should put a stop to the display of affection, however private. He could hear the stern voice of his father, Archidamus, in his head. _A mother's softening influence is detrimental to a boy's education, Timaeus_.

Theirs was a society that found shame in weakness – and loving someone made a warrior weak. But in truth, if he cared to admit it, his love for his family was a source of strength for him.

"Mother," came the boy's muffled voice. "Should I be… afraid?"

"No, little one," his wife replied, softly but firmly. "This is who we are. What must be done _will_ be done. In time, you will realize what I've always known about you – that you are a strong, intelligent and resilient _man_ worthy of your heritage. Remember courage, Baerius."

"Melitta," Timaeus stepped out from the darkness. "It is time."

Melitta took a deep breath and stood up. Timaeus saw her press her lips together lest they start to tremble. The boy unconsciously pressed himself closer to his mother's side but Melitta's hand curled around the back of her son's neck none too gently forcing him to meet her fierce gaze.

"Return with your shield or upon it!"

Timaeus' heart filled with pride as Baerius squared his shoulders, dark eyes glittering with newfound determination. "Yes, mother. I will make you proud."

"Come along then, my son," Timaeus held out his hand. He could not resist squeezing Baerius' hand, his own very subtle way of showing love and encouragement. He turned around and gestured to the armed men waiting at the courtyard.

Timaeus and Melitta stood side by side as they watched the soldiers take their son away. Timaeus gave Melitta a sideward glance. He could see the tightness around her eyes. Now that they were alone, it was acceptable to show a little bit of affection.

Timaeus tipped Melitta's chin up to meet his gaze. "You have the look of a child who lost a doll, wife," he teased, his fond grin taking away the sting of his derisive words.

"Don't be absurd, husband," Melitta regarded him with mock disdain. "I merely worry that Baerius will not be flogged properly in the _agoge_. I've heard talk that they indulge children now. The blood of Procles flows in my son's veins. He is descended from Heracles himself. It appalls me to think that they would coddle him."

Timaeus chuckled, rubbing Melitta's lower lip with a calloused thumb. "Spoken like a true Spartan."

* * *

 _492 BC_

Baerius tilted his head up to an ominously dark sky and watched as snowflakes fell down. _Winter comes early this year_ , Baerius thought idly. _It matters not. When this is over, I go home bringing much honour to my family_.

For as long as he could remember, Baerius had always been groomed to become a warrior. As a boy, his mother would deliver a stinging reprimand if he cried every time he scraped a knee. At the tender age of three, he was left alone simpering in his cot and was _commanded_ not to fear the dark. Despite the 'tough love' parenting technique, he strove to follow his mother's teachings because in his youthful naiveté, he believed that that was all it took to become a fierce and brave warrior. He was sorely mistaken.

For eleven years, Baerius endured the much harsher physical discipline in the _agoge_ , Sparta's military training regimen designed to produce skilled warriors who were feared by enemies and highly respected by allies. 'Never surrender. Never give up.' That was their mantra. Only the strong survived the brutal training. Since the age of seven, Baerius learned to march without shoes, go without food, wield a variety of weapons, embrace pain and survive through sheer wit alone. He was deprived of clothing save for a red cloak and forced to sleep outdoors, under the mercy of the unforgiving elements. The training was tough and to Baerius, it would have been a bit more bearable if his stomach did not gnaw at him with perpetual hunger. The first time he got caught stealing food, he earned ten lashes from all of his teachers and the older boys willingly beat him to 'help' toughen him up. He never got caught again.

While in the _agoge_ , Baerius learned that he would have been exempted from participating in the grueling training. Sparta was unusual among the Greek city-states in that it had the _Archagetai_ – two lines of kings. According to tradition, the Agiads and Eurypontids were descended from the twin sons of Heracles. The former was considered senior to the latter but as a direct descendant of Procles and first-born of Timaeus, Baerius was heir apparent to the Eurypontid line and as such, was expressly excluded from taking part in the _agoge -_ unless his father decided otherwise. But Baerius was glad that his father chose to have him trained. Looking back, he would not have wanted it any other way. Through the rigorous discipline and instruction, Baerius grew up to be the epitome of a true Spartan warrior. If he ever rose to be king, surviving the _agoge_ would only add to his credibility and prestige. Just like it did the current king.

 _Thank the gods Leonidas is a strong and worthy leader_ , Baerius mused. _May his reign endure for all time_.

Now that Baerius was practically immune to cold, hunger and pain, it was deemed time for him to take the final test of manhood. He was sent into the wild unarmed and as naked as the day he was born with orders to slay a beast and bring back the pelt as proof of his feat.

Baerius had followed the tracks of a wolf pack earlier that day, planning to slay the alpha when the chance presented itself. Although wolves hunted together, there would be an instance where they had to separate from the pack in order to flank the prey. His plan was simple – wait until the wolves were hunting and move in for the kill when the lead wolf detached itself from the pack. But first, Baerius knew he had to craft a weapon. He decided that a makeshift spear would have to do. He picked up a fallen branch that was the perfect size and weight for a spear.

Baerius surveyed his gloomy surroundings and spied a small hollow at the foot of the imposing Mount Taygetus. _It's better than nothing_ , Baerius nodded as he made his way to his shelter for the night. _At least it will cut some of the wind_. He sat down cross-legged on the ground, picked up a chipped rock and began systematically hewing one end of the branch into a sharp point.

"I believe it would be wise for you to come out of hiding now," Baerius said offhandedly, his deep voice breaking the relative silence of the forest. Two hours ago, his keen warrior senses told him that somebody was trailing him from a safe distance.

Baerius sighed and stood up when his stalker did not deign to reply. "My patience grows thin. I give you this last warning. Reveal yourself now else I shall assume that you wish to test your mettle against a Spartan."

Several heartbeats passed until a soft rustle came from behind a thick tree a few feet to his right. Baerius inhaled sharply at what his eyes beheld.

She walked toward him with the undulating gait of a dancer. Baerius' eyes traced her nudity from the tips of her toes to her flowing raven black hair. Her limbs were long and supple, with voluptuous hips and the smallest of waists. She was endowed with breasts so full and firm, areolas rosy, her nipples puckering defiantly against the cold. Her smooth skin had the natural golden glow of one who spent her days in the sun.

As if the perfection of her body was not enough, the beauty of her face quite easily rivaled that of the goddess Aphrodite. Her lips were lush and red, nose long and straight. Her cheekbones were elegantly formed, giving her the look of an aristocrat. But her eyes framed by thick, long lashes and perfect wing-shaped brows, were her most striking feature. They were bluer than the bluest of sapphires. A man could get lost for a lifetime staring into them. They reflected silent strength, unbreakable spirit and limitless compassion. And wonder of wonders, in the mere seconds that he laid eyes upon her, he felt a certain bond toward her. He felt like he always knew her. Like she has always been a part of him.

"By the gods…" Baerius whispered, his breath misting as he expelled it slowly. "What sorcery is this?"

"I come in peace." Her lilting voice reminded Baerius of the soothing music from a lyre. He shut his eyes tightly trying to control his sudden desire for the beautiful creature in front of him.

"My name is Diana."

* * *

"I come in peace," Diana repeated. This time she raised her arm, showing the man the two rabbits she had caught earlier. An offer of truce, of friendship. "Would you care to share these with me…" she trailed off expectantly, hinting.

The man blinked once. Twice.

"Baerius," he said gruffly, visibly shaking himself.

"Would you care to share these with me, Baerius?" Diana gestured at the rabbits.

"You are naked," Baerius stated the obvious. Her lack of clothing should not have bothered him. Just like any Spartan boy, Baerius spent much of his time outdoors playing, hunting, riding, wrestling and swimming. Spartan law dictated that girls do exactly the same thing. Boys and girls swam nude in the River Eurotas to cool off during the hot summer months. Nudity did not bother him. It should not have bothered him. But it did.

Diana lifted an eyebrow, amused. "So are you."

"I have to be," Baerius frowned.

Diana failed to control a wayward smile. "Well, if you can to be naked in this weather, I don't see why I can not be as well."

"What are you?" Baerius demanded.

"It would seem that in the pursuit of mastering the art of warfare," Diana noted sardonically. "Spartans have chosen to ignore common courtesies. But then again, you are but a man. I should not have expected manners from your kind."

Shocked understanding dawned in Baerius' eyes. _It can't be_... he thought in disbelief. _It must be..._ "Apologies, my sister in arms," his voice was full of bewilderment. "I forget myself. It is not everyday that a person gets to meet one of the _Antianeirai_. "

"Yes," Diana confirmed with a smile. "I am Amazon."

"I am honored to meet you," Baerius gestured toward his rock shelter. "Please, join me."

Diana accepted the invitation with a small inclination of her head. They sat down facing each other; Diana began to skin the rabbits while Baerius silently started a fire. The smell of cooking meat permeated the air in no time.

Diana had spotted him this morning as he stealthily followed a wolf pack. Something in her came alive the moment she set her eyes upon him and the realization that he was a man greatly piqued her curiosity. What she knew about the opposite sex, she learned only from the archives. The few sketches that she studied depicting what a man looked like were so different from the actual flesh. And despite several misgivings, she could not resist the compulsion to shadow him as he went about in his business. He moved with the deadly grace of a soldier thus, she was not at all surprised when he announced that he was a Spartan. Diana remembered reading about the injustices committed by the Spartans and Athenians against her ancestors centuries ago. Recalling the oppression that her forebears had to suffer through never failed to raise her ire, but she could not help but feel grudging respect and admiration for the kind of strength of both body and mind needed to complete a Spartan warrior's training.

Diana studied Baerius discreetly while they ate. She thought that he was a man of proper size and smiled approvingly at his impressive physique. She was one of the tallest among her sisters yet he easily towered a head above her. He had taut, well-developed muscles on a broad-shouldered frame with a aura of readiness radiating from him, like a jackal ready to pounce on his unfortunate prey. The multitude of scars that crisscrossed his back contrasted starkly against his bronzed skin. It somehow added to his dangerous beauty and Diana's fingertips itched to trace the pale sinewy lines. His angular face seemed to be carved from marble, his aquiline nose hinting at nobility, if not of pedigree then surely of character. His square jaw was lightly covered with a short black beard that partially hid an interesting cleft in his chin. His hazel brown eyes were constantly roving the night, alert to any hidden threats. He was a warrior through and through. Gazing upon his fine form stirred a foreign and unnamed emotion within her.

"You spend the day following me like a huntress would a prey. And now, you stare at me like a philosopher attempting to decipher the meaning of life," Baerius said with a hint of amusement, finally breaking the companionable silence between them.

"I... I do apologize," Diana felt a hot flush creep up her cheeks having been caught in the act of inspecting him. "I have not seen a man this close before."

Baerius' lips twitched with the beginnings of a smile. "And do you like what you see, Princess?"

Diana looked at him in alarm. _How did he…_ she thought, panicked.

"Princess?" she croaked. _He can't know, can he?_

"You who are endowed with much beauty can be no less than royalty," Baerius grinned. "Unless you are the goddess Aphrodite herself come to visit a mortal?"

"Courtliness is a part of your warrior training after all," Diana said lightly. Inwardly, she sighed with relief, thanking the gods that her secret was safe.

Baerius puffed up his chest proudly. "We are expected to hone intelligence and diplomacy along with our fighting prowess."

"I reckon this is the culmination of your _agoge_ ," Diana said in an effort to veer the conversation further away from her lineage.

"You seem to know much about my culture," Baerius nodded, looking at her intently. "It is a shame that much of yours remain obscure."

"We Amazons do have a tendency to isolate ourselves, don't we?" Diana held his gaze steadily, admiring how the firelight was reflected in his tawny eyes.

"So much so that it is as if you are a legend slowly fading into myth," Baerius agreed. "What brings you far from home?"

Diana took a deep breath. "We have a similar rite of passage as yours. Just as you have to prove yourself a man, I have to prove myself a woman."

"I am supposed to slay a beast," Baerius quirked an eyebrow, leaning sideways on his elbow, giving the false impression that he was being indolent. "It will be an unfortunate inconvenience if you considered me as one."

Diana frowned. "I beg your pardon?"

"It is said that women of your kind hate men," Baerius retorted drily.

"Oh," Diana shook her head when she realized what he was implying. "I… I am not here to kill you… And perhaps hate is too strong a word. Amazons do not hate men. We are simply… wary of them."

"Care to enlighten me as to the why?"

"You know as well as I do how much my people suffered in your hands," Diana said, grimly remembering the cruelty endured by her ancestors in the hands of men. "Man does not understand anything but war and violence. It matters not if you're Athenian or Corinthian or Arcadian. But Spartans are the worst of them all."

"This coming from an _Androktones_?!" Baerius sat up, riled at her unwitting insult. "You kill men simply because of the ludicrous notion that women are more superior!"

Diana rose to her knees. "You dare insinuate that women are second rate?"

"Only Spartan women give birth to real men, _Princess_ ," Baerius injected the honorific with much disdain.

"You insufferable... arrogant..." Diana swung her arm to slap the jeering expression from Baerius' face. He caught her wrist adeptly in his big callous roughened hand.

"Engaging me in a duel will prove to be unwise, Diana," Baerius warned in a tone that made the arctic temperature drop a little bit more.

"Unhand me!" Diana demanded furiously.

"Only if you submit."

It was the worst thing to ask from an Amazon. With a fierce growl, Diana launched herself at Baerius. What ensued was a deadly dance of might and will between two fighters extremely skilled in hand to hand combat. Punches were thrown, kicks were dodged. And Diana never felt more alive. There was something in her opponent that infuriated her and yet she felt a heady rush of exhilaration as she tested herself against such an elite warrior.

Baerius deftly twisted her arm behind her and trapped her body against him with an arm across her neck. A sudden feeling of arousal surged through him from the feel of her bare skin pressed against his. His body hardened even more when he noticed her chest heaving up and down with exertion and excitement.

"Deny that you were born and trained for the field of battle and you deny yourself," his breath was hot against her cheek.

With a heavy grunt, Diana managed to break free from his hold and toss him over her shoulder. In a flash, she had him on his back and straddled him, gripping his wrists beside his face. "Maybe that is true for _your_ people but all we Amazons ever wanted was peace. _You_ fight to conquer, _we_ fight to defend."

Baerius eyes narrowed dangerously at the implication that the Spartans were nothing but marauding barbarians. "We prevent lawlessness and civil strife!" Her full breasts, barely inches away from his lips, were wickedly distracting.

"Bah!" Diana panted, equally distracted by the wanton sensation of the hard planes of his stomach rubbing between her legs. "You say you fight for peace but you revel in war!"

"Yield, Amazon," Baerius said in a lazy and sensual drawl that made Diana's heart flutter.

"You are in no position to demand my surrender, Spartan," Diana squeezed her thighs ruthlessly against his torso in an attempt to douse the ravenous fire building up within her core. He grunted. Slightly. _Too much to hope that a rib cracked_ , she thought irately. Almost as if he could hear her thoughts, Baerius chuckled, his eyes gleaming with challenge... and seduction.

 _Great Hera! He's enjoying himself!_ Diana thought, vexed. _And so are you_ , a little voice reminded her.

Diana gasped as Baerius bucked against her. Her breath left her in a soft _oomph!_ as her world tilted and she found herself on her back, arms pinned over her head. She struggled against his heavy weight but to no avail.

"Yield."

Diana met his steely gaze defiantly. "Never."

His lips crashed down upon hers in a savage, punishing kiss that was meant to subdue. Diana felt her lips bruising. When she gasped for breath, Baerius' tongue plunged into her mouth, invading, teasing and challenging her. Passion and logic collided in her thoughts. _You don't need to do this, Diana!_ The part of her that had a tenuous hold on her sanity protested desperately. _I don't care!_ Her passion screamed with equal desperation. With the drumbeat of her heart pounding on her ears, she touched her own tongue to his lips. The kiss exploded with a hunger so primal that it threatened to overwhelm her senses.

She could feel the evidence of Baerius' desire pressing insistently against her. He moaned in pleasure when she instinctively rubbed herself against him. Diana felt him release her wrists, his warm hands traveling down to her mold her full breasts, teasing the sensitized nipples. She reveled in the touch of his strong and rough fingers on her heated skin, arching against him, wanting to get closer even as she was crushed against him so tightly that she found it hard to breathe. When Baerius lifted his lips from hers, she mourned at the loss.

His smoldering gaze held her captive. His sensuous lips formed one word.

"Yield."

And when Baerius' lips closed tightly around her nipple, sucking hard, Diana went down in defeat.

* * *

 _Pnyx Hill, Athens 480 BC_

The rulers of the Greek city-states and other influential citizens converged in an assembly to discuss the impending threat from the Persians. Perhaps 'discuss' was putting it mildly. The leaders were locked in a heated debate on how to deal with the conqueror, Xerxes.

Baerius held back a sigh of impatience. Regardless of the assembly's decision, he already knew what King Leonidas intended to do. It was a course of action that he fully supported – even though, in his heart or hearts, he knew that this was a fight they could not win if the king failed to secure the support of the other city-states.

All of a sudden, the loud arguments were replaced with astonished whispers. Baerius looked up to find out what caused the furor to blessedly cease. His eyes bulged in recognition.

"Queen Hippolyta, what an unexpected surprise," King Leonidas intoned. "I bid you welcome."

The queen of the reclusive Amazons inclined her golden head to acknowledge the greeting. Her arrival was indeed unexpected. None present could remember the last time that the fierce warrior woman set foot in the assembly to involve herself in the affairs of Greece. The Amazons did not like fraternizing with men in general, and had a particular loathing for the Athenians. So, the fact that she felt the need to break her long isolation to attend the gathering highlighted the gravity of the threat from Xerxes.

But Baerius could not care less for the monarch. What he cared about was the woman who stood to her right. The sight of her had the violent force of a spear piercing his chest, impaling his heart. The woman whose smile had bewitched him. The woman whose scent and taste drugged him. The woman whose face haunted his dreams for more than a decade. The woman who disappeared after a night of passionate lovemaking. The woman who disappeared after they whispered of their dreams and hopes. The woman who he never learned to truly forget. Diana.

The world melted away as they stared into each other's eyes. His memory of her beauty paled against the reality of her ripened perfection. She was a flower in full bloom.

Baerius was catapulted back to a long ago night spent in the forest beneath the shadow of Mount Taygetus. He had woken up the morning after feeling sated and then bereft when he realized that she was gone. He had tried to track her down but she left no trace. It was as if she was never there. He would have convinced himself that she was but a vivid dream if only her sweet taste did not linger on his tongue… if only he could not smell traces of her fragrant skin… if only he could not feel the sting on his back where she clawed at him whilst in the throes of ecstasy. Left with no plausible explanation of her disappearance, he very nearly convinced himself that perhaps she really was a goddess come down from Olympus to have her way with a mortal.

Despite the feeling of utter dejection, Baerius immediately found his balance and rigid self-control. He completed his quest, returned home and took his rightful place in society. He went on with his life, continuously blocking out a pair of sultry, soulful blue eyes from his memory. He had fought in countless battles, always emerged the victor, bringing honor to Sparta. In time, he wedded the beautiful Thaleia. She was a good wife – she knew what was expected from her and she accomplished them without fail. Their union produced his heir, Demetrios, who was recently taken away to participate in the _agoge_. He knew the boy would make him proud one day. He was fond enough of Thaleia and he had to admit, he loved Demetrios. Outwardly, he was the picture of a perfect Spartan.

But that one enchanted night changed something in him forever. Despite of his achievements, he could not explain the gaping hole he had in his life. Instinctively, he knew that it could only be filled by the woman who fleetingly connected with his soul a long time ago. He endured the emptiness stoically. It was expected. It was the norm. But every once in a while, he could not help but ask himself one question…

 _What if…?_

Baerius tore his gaze from Diana, giving himself a mental shake when he heard King Leonidas call his name.

"The council must act quickly," Baerius declared, infusing his voice with as much conviction as he possibly could. " _We_ must act quickly."

"Why?" Queen Hippolyta asked imperiously.

"In order that we Spartans may reach the first line of defense in time," he explained.

"And where might that be?" Diana queried. He could feel a tightening in his chest as her sweet voice created a deluge of emotions that he did not want to contemplate on. Matters of the heart were not a priority right here and right now.

"The Pass of Thermopylae, Princess," King Leonidas replied somberly.

"Thermopylae," the queen huffed contemptuously. "Of course. It would have to be the pass that protects Athens. Why you would willingly throw away the lives of your fine soldiers to protect these cowards, I will never understand."

The Athenians roared in affront.

"NO!" King Leonidas yelled over the din. "Thermopylae is the pass that protects GREECE! Mere cities do not matter now. It is only Greece that counts! Only with our combined might can we hope to avoid slavery! I am a warrior, not a politician, so I will plead this cause with all of you one last time. Instead of squabbling amongst ourselves, we need to act now!"

Queen Hippolyta shook her head ruefully as she turned her back and started walking away. "This has been a waste of our time. Come now, Diana."

* * *

Baerius strolled through the agora, the commercial center of the city of Athens. He wove through the hustle and bustle of the crowd toward the temple of Hephaestus, the patron god of craftsmanship and fire. As befits its honoree, there were many potters' workshops and metalworking shops that surrounded the temple. He was on his way to claim a dagger he had ordered sharpened prior to attending the assembly.

"Walk with me."

Baerius gave a start at the whispered request. He hesitated, suddenly unsure if the melancholy was worth the effort. After all, it was just one night. Just one night a long time ago. But his uncertainty melted away at Diana's shy smile and her warm hand on his arm. He allowed her to lead him toward the Agoraios Kolonos, a hill adjacent to the temple of Hephaestus, where there was a small garden and a fountain.

"I should have known you would be King," Diana said softly.

"Would that it made a difference, Princess," he countered.

They sought shade under an olive tree. Diana leaned her back against it and looked up to him unsure of what to say. When she saw him at the assembly, she very nearly spun on her heel to run away. Again. But her contempt over her cowardice overrode her shame. There was so much that she needed to explain.

She had been young and naïve when she met him, so full of idealistic notions, so eager to prove herself. She was always so quick to proudly say she was Amazon. Philippus, the Captain of the Royal Guard and her teacher, had said that she potentially had the combat skills to best the champion Artemis and that she could be as wise and learned as the scholarly Alexa. So, Diana trained and studied hard to excel, to earn the respect of her people as heir to the Amazonian throne. But what was the point of all her hard work when she was not even allowed beyond the borders of their island? Diana had yearned to go out into the world. To see. To feel.

And so she did. She sneaked out, so self-assured with her survival skills. She sneaked out, so cocky that she knew everything there was to know about Man's World. She sneaked out with the Amazon doctrines so deeply ingrained in her. But everything that she thought she knew was turned on its head when she met Baerius. He showed her that life was not so simple as the letters on a piece of parchment. The seed of doubt was planted in her. She began to question her beliefs, or rather, what she was _taught_ to believe. She began to have a nagging feeling that perhaps the Amazonian views regarding the world were too narrow, too shallow. But in the end, indoctrination won out. She could not turn her back on her obligations as Princess of the Amazons. But the memory of her time with him, however brief, was forever etched in her heart. At night, while she lay in bed listening to the waves as they crashed gently on the shores of her home island, she always ended up wondering…

 _What if…?_

Diana looked upon him now, silently begging for him to understand.

"I… I do not know where to begin," she told him honestly. "Words fail me."

"Perhaps there is really nothing to say," Baerius said.

"Surely, you don't believe that," Diana shook her head stubbornly.

A gentle wind blew a lock of hair across her face. Baerius resisted the urge to brush it back. He gave her a shrug instead. "Maybe there was a time, in its most infinitesimal measure, when I hoped for something more. But it is not to be. It _cannot_ be."

 _Courage, don't fail me now_. Diana prayed. She did not want to examine her feelings too closely but she had to face the truth. "I did not want it to be just a dalliance," she finally said.

"Walking away was the right thing for you to do then just as it is the right thing for you to do now," Baerius smiled ruefully. "Suppose we woke up to find ourselves still in each other's arms? What then?"

Diana closed her eyes, her heart heavy. "We would still have said our goodbyes," she answered bitterly.

"You are Amazon and I a Spartan," Baerius stroked her silky smooth cheek with the backs of his fingers, finally giving in to the temptation to touch her, to feel her. _After all these years, I deserve this... Just one last time_ , he thought fiercely. "If only it was not so, then maybe things would have been different."

"I suppose even warriors can dream… But this," he continued, tapping the sword by his hip. "This is reality. _My_ reality. Right here, right now, this is the only thing that I know is for certain. Yearning for something that cannot be is futile."

"As futile as fighting a war that cannot be won?" Diana tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. "The Oracle's prophecy says that we will be wiped from the face of the earth…"

"And since when did a Spartan run away from a fight just because he is told that defeat is inevitable?" Baerius smirked. "Every day that we remain standing is another day of freedom for Greece. No retreat, no surrender, Diana. That is the legacy of Sparta. You of all people should understand that."

"You know that I would fight by your side if I could," Diana declared passionately.

"I do not call you coward, Princess," he threaded his fingers through her hair, taking pleasure in feeling its familiar texture. "I see in you the courage that can shame the most valiant of heroes. But perhaps this is not the time for you yet. We each have a part to play in this grand drama of life. We have an obligation to our people. Mine takes me to Thermopylae. Where does yours take you?"

"My mother… she…" Diana began hesitantly. "She has prayed tirelessly, night and day, for the gods to deliver the Amazons from all this hate and suffering."

"The gods have always been petty. They take pleasure in meddling with our lives only when it pleases them," Baerius' firm lips twisted in disdain. "But where are they now? Now when we need them the most?"

"Don't blaspheme," Diana chided gently. "Hera has answered my mother's prayers."

Baerius frowned. "What is your meaning?"

"The goddess will grant us immortality and powers beyond our imaginings. But she has decreed that Themiscyra is to be hidden from the world of man…"

"To what purpose?"

"The Amazons will finally be free from war and strife."

"And at what cost, Diana?"

Diana sighed. "We are to continue honoring them like we always have. And when the time comes, whenever that may be, we are to be their champions."

"You free yourselves from one master and then shackle yourselves to another?" Baerius asked in disbelief. "The wisdom eludes me."

"It is the only way for our people to survive."

His strong arms wrapped around her waist and he drew her in for a tight embrace. Diana pressed her cheek on his chest, finding comfort in the steady beat of his heart. "If the Oracle foresees our doom, then perhaps, this is the gods' way to guarantee that we do not vanish from history," Baerius thought out loud, absently caressing her back. "Perhaps you are to remind people of the time when a handful of men stood against thousands to fight for freedom. Maybe this is the gods' way to ensure that the world will remember us."

"I will never forget you."

"I feel like I knew you long before I first laid my eyes upon you," Baerius rested his forehead against hers. "You will always be a part of me and I you. The hope inside of me whispers that I will see you again and we shall stand side by side fighting for truth, justice, freedom and peace."

Diana smiled. "And when that time comes, I swear I will be with you every step of the way. I will never again leave your side."

"Even if I pushed you away?" Baerius smirked.

"Even if you pushed with all your might," Diana vowed resolutely.

"Until then, Princess," he moved closer, his lips inches away from hers. "But for now…"

It began as a gentle kiss of remembrance. They remembered their ephemeral time together, remembered that two strangers from two very different worlds somehow completed the other. It soon became a kiss of desire… a wistful yearning for a chance to love, a desperate longing for what might have been had the chance not slipped away. And finally, it became a kiss of hope… the hope that one day, they would find each other under better circumstances, in a better world where love might be allowed to flourish unrestrained.

Diana's eyes glittered with unshed tears as she looked up to his face one last time. She drank in every single detail and kept it safe in her heart, to carry with her across the ages. There were things that still needed to be spoken but now was no longer the time. Here was no longer the place. So instead she said the words that he needed to hear.

"Return with your shield or upon it."

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

 _ **Androktones**_ – killer of men

 _ **Antianeirai**_ – those who fight like men


	2. Chapter 2

_I know I said one shot… But who was I kidding?!_ ** _DaisyJane_** _is right – the previous post is a prologue because… Sometimes, the characters (and readers' reviews) simply take over the story. Thank you for the inspiration,_ _ **CrazyPhenom**_ _. And thank you,_ _ **editlady617**_ _, the best beta/writing buddy to walk the face of the earth. I will be lost without you._

* * *

 **CHAPTER 1**

The soft chirping of birds and the sound of the surf lapping gently on the shore penetrated Diana's consciousness. With near superhuman effort, she forced her heavy eyelids open, her pupils constricting against the bright morning sunlight. She groaned as she struggled to sit up, feeling sore and stiff all over.

 _Great Hera, what happened?_

"Finally," a soft feminine voice greeted her. "Welcome back, sister."

"Alexa?" Diana croaked, her throat feeling parched. Looking up at the new comer, Diana blinked rapidly trying to focus. "What… what happened?" She lifted a shaky hand to her throbbing temple, thoughts befuddled.

The scholarly Amazon sat down on the bed and handed her a glass of water. She regarded the princess with a worried frown. "You have no recollection?"

"I…" Diana accepted the drink gratefully and took a long swig of the cool, restorative liquid. She closed her eyes tightly, striving to get her bearings. "I'm not... I'm not sure… I think I..."

Her eyes widened in horror and the glass slipped from her nerveless fingers when the memories came crashing back in full, vivid detail.

* * *

 ** _Three months ago…_**

Diana gritted her teeth, rivulets of perspiration running down her face as she struggled against Artemis. The two Amazons were fighting for control over the quarterstaff caught in between them.

"Is that all you've got, Princess?" Artemis taunted with a sneer. With a sudden powerful jerk, she hoisted the staff – and Diana – overhead.

Diana bit back a curse as she was catapulted head over heels. Instinctively, she tucked herself into a tight ball, rolled in mid-air and landed in a crouch.

"Lesson number one," Artemis said in a lecturing tone, walking casually toward Diana. The quarterstaff emitted a soft hum as it spun in the expert hands of the fiery, red-haired Amazon. "A lesson you so stubbornly refuse to learn – never hold yourself back."

Diana flinched as Artemis suddenly thrust the quarterstaff, its end whirling to a complete stop barely an inch from her nose. She glared at the imperious look on Artemis' face. Sparring with the Amazon army's most accomplished fighter had been a constant source of frustration and challenge for Diana. She rarely won a duel against Artemis and at the times that she did win, the infuriating woman would just laugh and brush it off as luck.

With a soft growl, she yanked the staff free from Artemis' grasp, simultaneously pivoting on her leg to deliver a kick aimed at her opponent's ribs. Artemis grunted at the impact but quickly recovered. In a flurry of arms and legs, the two furiously engaged in hand-to-hand combat, Artemis relentlessly attacking, Diana steadfastly defending, both seeking any opening, any weakness that could be used against the other. But in the end, Diana's frustration and impatience gave away the fight. She carelessly charged into Artemis thinking it was best to overpower her foe. The seasoned warrior deftly slithered out of Diana's way, twisting the princess' arm painfully behind her. With a vicious shove, Diana soon found herself face down with Artemis' sandalled foot effectively squashing her cheek to the ground.

"Lesson number two," Artemis said, caught between laughter and irritation. "Yet another important lesson you seem to insist on ignoring – control your temper. Never attack under the influence of anger."

"That is enough," Philippus commanded firmly from the sidelines, knowing full well that the sparring session will not stop unless the tenacious women were given a direct order. Her two best fighters also happened to be the most stubborn with Diana being the more headstrong of the pair.

"Diana," the Captain of the Royal Guard continued, watching the princess pick herself up from the ground. "I suggest you go and pay Alexa a visit. Perhaps a change of pace will do you good."

"But I – " Diana began to protest.

"Go."

Diana pressed her lips together, visibly trying to control her fury.

"Such petulance," Artemis snickered, knowingly fanning the fires of Diana's anger.

Diana took a threatening step toward the provoking woman.

"NOW, Diana," Philippus' eyes narrowed dangerously at the princess' continued disobedience.

Swallowing her pride, Diana gave Philippus a curt salute and walked away.

"Her fighting technique has improved immensely over the years," Philippus commented lightly. She watched Diana's retreating back thoughtfully. "But her temper needs more work it seems."

"She is nearly my equal in combat," Artemis' topknot bobbed up and down in agreement. "Although, I believe it is not the lack of talent or training that bars her from perfecting her skills but rather it is the lack of attention. She seems to be more preoccupied of late. The princess always had the tendency to be hot-headed and impatient but never this impulsive. I sincerely doubt that sending her to Alexa will solve the problem, Captain."

Philippus made a noncommittal sound as she tapped her bottom lip in silent contemplation.

* * *

Diana could not wipe the frown from her brow as her feet unconsciously led her to Alexa's cottage by the beach. She kept reviewing her sparring session with Artemis in her head.

 _I could see where she wanted to strike but I was too slow_ , she analysed. _And how_ _could I fall for what clearly was a feint?_ _I should have attacked more aggressively. Or maybe I should have waited for a better opening..._ She gave an irritated _tsk_ and threw her hands up in the air.

"It is my most fervent hope," a laughing voice rang through her pensive self-criticism. "That I have not done anything to deserve that fearsome scowl upon your face, Diana. My only chance for survival is to run. And even that would prove to be a futile attempt at self preservation since I do not have the speed of Hermes."

"Alexa!" Diana blinked in surprise, not realising that she had reached her destination. "Please forgive me. I… I did not mean to…"

Alexa waved off the apology. "I reckon you lost your match with Artemis?" She asked with a sympathetic smile. She bore a striking resemblance to her blood sister Artemis, sharing the same facial features and flame-coloured hair. But that was where their similarities ended. The two were in fact polar opposites – where Artemis was aggressive and rough around the edges when dealing with people, Alexa was kind-hearted and diplomatic.

"I don't know what's wrong with me. I could anticipate her moves but somehow I just couldn't…" Diana shook her head in frustration.

"Don't be so hard on yourself," Alexa advised. She gestured to one of the seats on the porch. "Artemis has had more years of experience in battle than you. Naturally, she'll have more tricks up her sleeve. But you have a natural talent, Diana. I have no doubt you'll catch up in due time. You'll see."

"And Artemis means well," Alexa continued, earnestly trying to bolster her friend's spirits. "Truly, she does. She may be a harsh teacher but she is how she is because she cares."

"Easy for you to say," Diana plopped down unceremoniously on the seat and rested her elbows on her knees. "You're not the one who is at the losing end of her sword."

Alexa's jade-green eyes twinkled with merriment. "Been there, done that. And for the love of Athena, I pray I never have to do it again." Having been born into a largely militaristic culture, Alexa, just like Artemis, Diana and the rest of their Amazon sisters, had been trained from a young age to be proficient in both armed and unarmed combat as well as the unique Amazonian martial arts. But over time, and much to Artemis' chagrin, Alexa proved herself a hopelessly inept fighter, as she immensely preferred to thrust her head into a book than a spear into a body.

"Your talent lies somewhere else," Diana said absently, staring off into the distance. "You may not be the most skilled of warriors but your knowledge is unsurpassed."

"It may be as you say," Alexa replied modestly. "And while having knowledge is well and good, you have something even better, Diana. You have the wisdom of a goddess. It will only grow over time."

"Time," Diana sighed as she cradled her chin on her hand. "It seems that time is all that I will ever have."

"What ails you, sister?" Alexa placed a concerned hand on Diana's shoulder. "Surely, there is more to this than just losing a duel?"

"Oh, I don't know, Alexa… It's just that… It seems like…" Diana was at loss for words. "I just can't seem focus these past few months. The past few years even."

"Perhaps you are just bored," her friend offered kindly.

"All this," Diana gestured at her idyllic surroundings. "Makes me feel trapped somehow."

"Ah, but there is much beauty here," Alexa pointed out. "And serenity. Everything that we could ever want is provided here."

"Everything?" Diana asked pointedly.

"Well," Alexa hedged, blushing prettily. "Everything that we need at least."

"A gilded cage," Diana retorted crossly, blatantly ignoring the small, chastising voice that told her that she was being ungrateful to the gods for saving her and her people from the turmoil that seemed to constantly besiege the outside world.

"I'm sorry, Alexa," Diana sighed. "I should not be taking out my frustrations on you. I just... I keep getting this strange feeling..."

"Hmm?" Alexa tilted her head, curious.

"I don't know," Diana shrugged morosely. "I just have this feeling that there's something… _more_... something that I need to do…" _Something_ _out there_ , she finished silently.

"Oh!" Alexa exclaimed. "That reminds me!"

Diana looked at her close friend expectantly, temporarily forgetting about her problem.

"It's finally my turn to go out into Man's World!" Alexa informed her excitedly.

"Really?!" Diana straightened up. "Is it that time already?"

Alexa nodded eagerly. "I leave in three days."

"You must be so excited," Diana gave her a wistful smile, happy and sad all at the same time. "I envy you, sister."

Every other century or so, an Amazon scholar journeyed from the refuge of Themyscira to document how the world has fared since the time the Amazons willingly isolated themselves from the rest of humanity. The chosen sister was tasked to chronicle the different happenings that occurred since the prior visit and observe as current events unfolded. She was to go incognito, blend in with the populace and gather information and memorabilia as discreetly as possible. This was practiced in order to make sure that the Amazonian archives are kept up to date. It was risky business to be sure and the queen did not approve of it whole-heartedly. After much debate, Mnenosyne, the Chief Historian, was able to convince Queen Hippolyta of the importance of acquiring mementos and keeping records of the changes in the World of Man. The queen had prayed to the gods and goddesses for permission and surprisingly enough, their patron deities gave their approval with one added stipulation – in the interest of safety, the scholar sent out should be accompanied by a soldier.

"Who goes with you?" Diana asked.

"Mnenosyne has not told me just yet," Alexa shook her head. Her face lit up when an idea entered her head. "But wouldn't it be absolutely wonderful if it was you?"

Diana snorted at the impossibility of the notion. "Fat chance."

"You never know, Diana," Alexa argued, demonstrating that even the gentlest, most docile of Amazons bore the innate persistence and single-mindedness that distinctly marked them as a people. "It can't hurt to ask."

"Mother will never allow it," Diana replied with much conviction, shoulders drooping in disappointment.

* * *

"Was this a wise decision, Philippus?" Queen Hippolyta asked, not for the first time. She was standing on the shores of Paradise Island, along with Philippus, Antiope and Artemis, watching Diana sail away with Alexa.

"I believe so, your Highness," the gruff Captain replied decisively. "Princess Diana will never fully appreciate her training if she is not put in a situation where she can apply it."

Antiope, the queen's sister, nodded her agreement. "Diana has been restless for years, Hippolyta. Surely, you've noticed that. She needs a diversion, a sense of purpose. And besides, it really is about time that she was given a formal task to accomplish."

"But she is yet so young," a worried frown marred Hippolyta's smooth forehead.

"Young?" Antiope arched a disbelieving eyebrow.

"Oh, you know what I mean, Antiope," the queen's frown deepened. "I dread to think of any untoward incident that could happen, what with her powers not yet fully unlocked."

"Fret not, Hippolyta," Antiope placed a placating hand on the queen's shoulder. "Powers or no, Diana is a talented warrior and she is wise despite her 'youth.' Undoubtedly, she has more to learn – all the more reason that she must be allowed to make this journey. She will be home in no time at all."

"It is not too late to change your mind, my queen," Artemis suggested with an eager grin. "I stand ever ready to go in her stead."

"Perhaps…" Hippolyta chewed her lower lip, hesitating. A few seconds later, she drew herself up to her full height, coming to a decision.

"Go, Artemis. Follow them but do not make your presence known. Intervene only in the direst of circumstances. Do you understand?"

Artemis promptly saluted with a fist to her chest. "By your command, Highness, so shall I obey."

* * *

 ** _Schwarzwald, 1151 AD_**

Harold Robert Bryce Wainwright, the first Earl of Gottam, was clad entirely in black. His headpiece was black. His cloak was black. His greaves, gauntlets and spaulders were black. And instead of the widely used stylized plate armor, the earl wore a stygian body armor of a rare design – it was completely inked in black and did not bear an inch of flashy trimming. Its stark angular lines clung to him in a fashion that closely mimicked his physique. The only embellishment to be found on the earl's accoutrement was a repoussè on his shield of a bat in flight. Even the coat of his powerful warhorse, Titan, was the color of pure ebony. Moreover, the destrier was decked in barding that was darker than a moonless and starless night. Together, master and beast presented a vision straight out of the most hellish of nightmares.

The earl melded with his surroundings perfectly. The early afternoon sun shone brightly up in the sky but its rays found much difficulty piercing through the thick and seemingly sinister canopy of evergreens that towered over the Black Forest. The people who settled in the surrounding areas avoided venturing into these woods, as the place was fraught with fearful whispers of witches and specters and other evil mythical beings of bygone eras – which was exactly why the earl had chosen to travel through this dense forest of conifers. He preferred to journey with as little notice as possible on his way home to England.

 _Home_ , Bryce thought. _Will I ever have one?_

It felt like he never did... and never would. All his life, Bryce had not known anything except the battlefield, having been born in a time of anarchy, in a time of civil war between King Stephen and Empress Maude. His earliest memory was when his parents sent him to an uncle, a knight of the realm, to embark on his own training for knighthood at the age of seven. His parents died shortly thereafter leaving him and his brother five years his junior, Lorin, virtually alone in the world. Bryce was not given much time to wallow in grief over his parents' passing for he had his training to complete. As for his brother, his uncle arranged for a neighbouring family to raise Lorin as the boy was yet too young to join the training to become a knight. As his uncle's squire, Bryce's education was geared toward learning skills related to horsemanship and wielding various weapons such as the two-handed sword, battle-axe, mace, dagger and lance. He demonstrated a natural talent in the arts of war, perfecting other associated skills such as climbing, swimming, throwing stones, javelins, archery and wrestling. Furthermore, Bryce demonstrated a remarkable predilection for a skill that was deemed unusual for a knight and more fitting for an assassin – he was unparalleled when it came to matters of stealth. It was because of this particular talent that he now bore the title of earl and a fearsome moniker that he carried until this day.

Bryce was barely eighteen and recently knighted when King Stephen was besieged by Robert of Gloucester at Wilton Castle. The king attempted to break out but his army was forced back and dispersed by a cavalry charge by Earl Robert's army. Under the cover of darkness, young Bryce boldly led a small group of knights into the castle and played a pivotal role in the monarch's escape. When they finally reached safety, King Stephen commented on how Bryce had appeared from out of nowhere and swooped down on his enemies like a giant demon bat from the bowels of hell. As a reward, the king bestowed upon him the title of Earl of Gottam, after the village from whence Bryce was born. King Stephen then laughingly dubbed him 'Lord of the Bats.'

The story of how Bryce rescued the king was repeated by every courtier to anyone who wanted to listen – and there was never a lack of a willing pair of ears. In each retelling, the storytellers could not resist the temptation of piling on terrifying details, successfully boosting the legend of the fledgling earl. What started out as a whimsical pet name soon became one that struck fear into the hearts of friends and foes alike. With each battle fought and won, Bryce's reputation evolved to that of a cold and ruthless warrior. Although he was not overly fond of the appellation, Bryce shrewdly allowed the melodramatic rumors to propagate because he found it to be an advantage – allies willingly offered aid whenever he needed it and enemies readily capitulated, preferring diplomatic negotiations to outright battles against one who was named after a horrid-looking and purportedly bloodsucking nocturnal creature, who had the propensity to strike his enemies down when they least expected it.

 _The best victories were those wherein not a single drop of blood was shed_ , Bryce thought.

Despite everything, Bryce served King Stephen faithfully over the years. Battle after battle, he unfailingly proved his loyalty to the monarch so much so that Bryce was the only noble allowed a personal army, albeit a small one. It was composed of forty elite knights who swore fealty to Bryce and Bryce alone. His personal guard was comprised of his five closest friends – the very same knights who went with him to rescue the king in the Battle of Wilton – Sir Clarence, Sir Walter, Sir Oliver, Sir Jonathan and Sir Henry.

Within just a year of acquiring his title, Bryce was able to amass enough wealth to start the construction of Wainmoore Castle in the small village of Gottam. It was to be his seat when he finally retired from war. Regrettably, Bryce's duties as one of King Stephen's champions prevented him from overseeing the construction of his demesne. Bryce was forced to relegate Lorin as steward to his estates with specific instructions regarding the design of Wainmoore Castle because the English king always had a battle for Bryce to fight. At the beginning of his reign, King Stephen had developed strained relations with the Catholic Church and as a gesture of conciliation, King Stephen sent Bryce to join the Crusades.

Now, at nine and twenty, Bryce had grown weary of a life of war and never ending violence. He was tired of the blood, the sweat, the grit, the lack of food and sleep... tired of losing men whom he considered friends, of hearing the mournful cries of hundreds of innocents... tired of death. He yearned for the day when he would be able to finally settle down in peace. If he had his way, he would never again raise his sword to kill – unless it was in defense of himself and for what was his. When he received King Stephen's summons to come home, he did not hesitate to send fifteen of his knights ahead to alert Lorin of his homecoming. After a fortnight, he left the Holy Land accompanied by his personal guard.

 _Perhaps it is time to settle down with a biddable wife and start going about the business of siring an heir_ , Bryce thought with eager anticipation for domestic life.

On the few times that he attended court, he had met the young Lady Celine, the daughter of the one the French earls. The king had hinted of a match between them to strengthen his alliances. Bryce did not think much of it then but he started to give it careful consideration when he received the king's missive.

 _The Lady Celine seems to be quite the demure beauty_ , Bryce mused idly. _She is easy to talk to and she has this interesting glint of mischief in her green eyes. Perhaps we will suit well enough to wed_. But if the news from his motherland were to be believed, the civil war between King Stephen and Empress Maude was far from over. He had a grim feeling that he was being called home to fight yet another battle.

 _One more battle_ , he gritted his teeth with ironclad resolve, a muscle twitching in his jaw. _One final battle then I shall tell the king of my intent_. _I have earned this much_.

His reverie was interrupted by the sound of footsteps crashing through the underbrush. Bryce held up a fist, signalling a halt. The soft scrape of steel against steel told him that the four knights with him had readied their weapons for any kind of danger. While adept in the use of various weaponry, each knight favoured a weapon that matched his personality. Known for his strength, Sir Clarence looked formidable with a two-handed bastard sword in his hands, capable of severing limbs – or his enemies' heads – with one powerful stroke. Sir Henry, a creatively athletic fighter, held a straight and narrow-bladed short sword in each hand that enabled him to bombard his enemies with rapid strikes and jumping aerial assaults. The ever reliable and steadfast Sir Jonathan hefted his great war hammer with a wicked spike on one end while Sir Oliver, the undisputed marksman of the team, had an arrow knocked on his bow, ready to be loosed in a blink of an eye.

Several seconds later, Sir Walter, the fifth knight of his personal guard, and the cause of the noise, sprung up into view. The lean and lithe knight was fast on his feet and as such, he was the designated scout of the group. He closed in on them with the long and easy strides of one who actually enjoyed running.

"Bryce!" Walter called out, barely breathing hard. While the rest of the world addressed Bryce as 'my lord' as befits his station, the knights of his personal guard had long ago earned the right to call him by his given name. To him, they were equals. "Come! Quickly!" the fleet-footed knight spun on his heel and led the way.

Bryce gave Clarence a sideways glance. His right hand man shrugged his impressively broad shoulders.

"See to the horses, Richard," Bryce turned to the last member of their small group. His young squire was already hastily scrambling down from his own horse. Bryce dismounted and jogged after Walter.

Clarence, Oliver, Jonathan and Henry followed suit, automatically fanning out in an attack formation behind their leader. After years of fighting together and watching each other's backs, they rarely needed spoken commands to function as a unit in any given situation. Each knight knew their role and anticipated each other's needs on instincts that bordered on clairvoyance.

They came to a small clearing ringing with the sounds of a skirmish. Bryce's eyes widened with what he saw. A band of brigands was assaulting two hapless females, one cowering in fear and the other was surprisingly holding her own, fighting like an avenging angel. The marauders easily outnumbered Bryce and his knights five to one but they dove into the fray without hesitation.

Bryce saw Clarence and Walter move to aid the red-haired woman so Bryce focused his energies on helping the black-haired one. She moved with the fluidity of one accustomed to fighting, her strikes measured, her aim true. She wore a reddish-brown tunic-style leather body armour that clung to her like second skin. The bustier and short skirt left her toned arms and legs bare.

Out of the corner of his eye, Bryce saw a bandit attack her from behind. With lightning quick reflexes, he drew a dagger from his belt and threw. The attacker fumbled to the ground as the sharp blade hit its mark.

The enraged angel whirled around and locked gazes with him. He had never seen her before – of that he was certain – but a spark of recognition shook him to his core.

 _I know you_... But before he could analyse why she seemed so familiar, she lunged at him with her sword and screamed in a foreign tongue.

" _DAIMONAS!_ "

Bryce lifted his shield just in time to block the potentially lethal strike. The bones on his forearm vibrated from the powerful blow. _Saints preserve me!_ He thought in awe. _She is strong!_

" _PIGAÍNETE PÍSO STA TARTARA ÓPOU ANÍKETE!_ "

Bryce sidestepped as she executed a swift thrust aimed at his chest. He sucked in his breath through his teeth when the blade caught him just below the shoulder, one of the weakest parts of his armour. _Strong_ _ **and**_ _fast_ , he amended. He could feel a telltale wetness starting to slide down his arm from the hard hit.

"Peace, woman!" Bryce backpedalled, desperately blocking and parrying her powerful strikes with his shield and sword. "I am only trying to help you!"

But she kept up the relentless assaults. While Bryce blocked strike after strike, he dimly realised that either she did not understand a word he said or his words did not register through the red haze of battle that obviously blinded her to the fact that he was not the enemy. Bryce's keen tactical mind recognised that if he wanted this fight to end, he needed to start taking the offensive instead of employing purely defensive maneuvers. But the Code of Chivalry had so deeply ingrained in him the value of courtesy and gallantry toward women that he found it difficult to countenance ever striking a member of the fairer sex.

 _Even if she is clearly one of the most formidable opponents I have ever faced_ , he thought with irony, barely dodging a swipe meant to sever his head from his neck. _If I didn't know better, I'd say she was Clarence's equal in brawn and Walter's equal in speed_.

 _Always assume that every adversary is bigger, stronger and faster than you_ , his uncle's stern voice reminded him. _Rely on technique, timing and leverage instead of brute force. Outlast him then outwit him_.

Bryce began to feign exhaustion – with the bleeding wound on his shoulder, pretense was not at all difficult. His feet began to flag, his ripostes deliberately delayed. He almost could not control a smirk when he saw her face light up with the anticipation of imminent victory.

 _Hers is the most expressively beautiful face I have ever seen if not for that ferocious glower_ , he could not help admiring. And somehow, even in the midst of their fighting, he could not shake the feeling that he knew her from somewhere.

When she struck again, Bryce allowed his short sword to fall from his hand. Another strike brought his shield crashing to the ground. He clenched his jaw when he saw that she was about to backhand him. In what outwardly appeared to be a feeble attempt at blocking, he raised his arm to dampen the impact to the side of his head and spun around making it seem like the momentum was from the blow. He fell to his knees with a dull thud. Bryce swayed, bowing his head and clutched at his helmet, taking it off acting disoriented.

She stood squarely in front of him and lifted her sword overhead. With a small cry of victory, she brought it down, its sharp point aimed at the base of his spine. In an astonishing burst of speed and agility borne from years of training and experience – and perhaps with just a tad of desperation – Bryce forcefully tossed his helmet up, adequately deflecting the blade. Simultaneously, he sprung to his feet, tackling her to the ground, pinning her down with his solid body. Bryce swiftly threaded his arm under her neck, through her armpit, his enormous hand clamping down on her opposite arm, effectively cutting off the airflow to her lungs and disrupting the blood supply to her brain. He squeezed, applying a calculated amount of pressure, enough to make his chokehold decidedly more uncomfortable.

"Yield," he whispered menacingly, his face so close to hers that the tips of their noses touched.

"Nev – " she started to say when her bright blue eyes bulged in surprise. All the fight suddenly left her, jaw slackening, her full lips forming an _'O'_.

"Baerius?"

* * *

 **A/N:**

 _Schwarzwald -_ the German Black Forest (of Hansel and Gretel fame)

 _Daimonas_ – Greek for demon

 _Pigaínete píso sta Tartara ópou aníkete_ – Greek for "Go back to Tartarus where you belong." (as per Google translate lol)


	3. Chapter 3

_It has always been said that 'Love is worth fighting for.' But I never truly understood its meaning until I saw her look into his eyes. It was clear to me then that she was ready for war.  
_ – _Alexa's diary  
_ _October 1151 AD_

 **CHAPTER 2**

Diana found it hard to breathe – whether from exertion or from the near unbreakable chokehold or from the shame of being duped or from the shock that a long lost beloved face now stared back at her, she could no longer tell.

Her thoughts and emotions in complete and utter turmoil, she studied his face closely. The hard and rugged features were the same, the square jaw, the clefted chin and high cheekbones were still undeniably stamped with the stony resolve and dark arrogance of one used to being in authority. She, however, noticed one very distinct difference – his eyes. His eyes were no longer the golden brown that she so fondly remembered. They were now a brilliant shade of blue, the exact same shade as hers.

A memory flashed through her mind's eye.

 _Your eyes mesmerize me, Baerius whispered to her, languidly stroking her cheek with his thumb. They have the uncanny ability to see into the depths of my soul... If the gods should see it fit, I will immortalize them so I can drown in their pools for the rest of eternity..._

 _Great Hera!_ _Could it truly be…?_

"Will you swear," his achingly familiar husky voice brought her back to the present. "That if I let you up, you will cease to behave like a hellcat and heed the voice of reason?"

Mutely, Diana continued to stare at him in defiance, caught between the joy of the possibility that he indeed was back and the growing irritation that despite the passing of the centuries, he seemed to be as belligerent as ever. And now that she had had precious seconds to compose herself, she began to feel the full weight of her chagrin of having been fooled into believing that she had defeated him.

"Your oath on it, woman," he increased the pressure on her neck imperceptibly.

"Surely, Lord Bryce," a scandalized, booming voice interrupted. "You realize that it is not gallant to treat a lady thus."

Diana saw 'Lord Bryce' hesitate. Then, with a heavy grunt, he released her from his chokehold and rolled up in one smooth move. Diana sat up trying to catch her breath. She looked up at the hand he held out to her, contemplating on whether or not she should accept his gesture of peace. The decision was taken from her when the arrogant man rolled his eyes, grabbed her arm and hauled her to her feet.

"Diana!" Alexa ran up to her. Diana yanked her arm away from his warm grasp and turned to face her friend.

"Are you unhurt, Alexa?"

"You're welcome," Bryce bit out sarcastically.

Diana shot him a baleful glare over her shoulder.

"I am well," Alexa grabbed her wrist, gave it a squeeze, gently reminding her to play along. Alexa transferred her gaze to their rescuer. "And thank you for coming to the aid of two defenseless women, my lord."

"You are far from helpless," Bryce replied drily. "But it gladdens me to know that at least one of you is grateful for our help."

Diana whirled around furiously, finally giving in to the impulse to give him a piece of her mind but the towering knight who interrupted them earlier stepped forward and extended a conciliatory hand.

"Now that those bandits have been dealt with," the broad-shouldered man flashed a winsome smile, attempting to diffuse the tense mood. "I believe introductions are in order."

"I am Sir Clarence," he continued, giving the two women a deep bow.

The other knights gathered around, took off their helms and introduced themselves. Overall, they were a civil and friendly sort. Sir Jonathan gave them a somber but accommodating greeting. Sir Henry complimented Diana's courage and fighting prowess while Sir Oliver gave them a wink and chivalrously commented on how it was his honor to defend such beautiful women. Sir Walter went so far as to kissing the backs of their hands, gracefully making leg as if he was at a ball instead of the middle of a forest. Only Bryce remained silent, keeping his gaze steadily on Diana.

"My name is Alexa," Alexa addressed the knights with a tentative smile. "And this is Diana. We… we are pleased to meet you."

Diana bristled when Bryce arched a dubious eyebrow, deliberately scanning her disheveled form from head to foot.

"And this dark knight who seems to have lost his tongue along with his manners," Sir Clarence said pointedly, giving Bryce an admonishing stare. "Is Lord Wainwright, Earl of Gottam."

"I gather from your accents that you are not from around these parts. From whence do you hail?" Bryce asked bluntly.

Diana opened her mouth to give a scathing retort but Alexa forestalled her with a warning look.

"Laconia, my lord," Alexa answered. "We are from Laconia."

"That is almost a month's journey and you on foot," Bryce observed gruffly. "What brings you far from Greece and into these woods?"

"None of your business," Diana muttered under her breath. She pursed her lips when Alexa sighed in exasperation. _Fine_ , she thought grudgingly, still miffed at being duped and his continued lack of decorum. _I'll try to make friends_.

"Forgive my rudeness and please accept my belated gratitude for your aid," Diana bared her teeth in a forced smile.

"There, now!" Clarence exclaimed. "We are all friends. Are we not, my lord?"

Clarence was spared from a sarcastic rejoinder when Richard ran up to Bryce.

"You're bleeding, sire!" the young squire's face was etched with worry.

"Tis but a scratch," Bryce waved offhandedly, barely suppressing a wince. Now that his adrenalin from the fight had ebbed away, his shoulder suddenly began to throb relentlessly with pain. Diana clenched her fists tightly, swallowing her indignation over the implication that her deadly strikes were nothing more than a mere nuisance.

"A scratch!" Sir Walter guffawed, slapping his thighs with ill concealed glee. "Surely, the Lady Diana gave you more than _'but a scratch.'_ I daresay, my lord, that the Saracens will rescind their claim on Jerusalem if you but displayed half the fervor and frenzy when you fought her."

The laughing knight held his hands up in mock surrender at the look of icy displeasure Bryce sent him. The amused chuckles of agreement from the other knights mollified Diana's pride. Somewhat.

"Regardless, milord," Richard insisted stubbornly. "I should still tend to it."

"Very well," Bruce assented.

"Wait… I…" Diana said hesitantly. "If you would allow me..."

"I beg your pardon?" Bryce's brows snapped together in suspicion.

"I…" Diana chewed her lip. "I gave you that injury. It is only fitting that I make amends. Think of it as… as a gesture of goodwill." _Might as well find out if you really are Baerius reborn_.

Bryce stared at her in contemplation for what seemed to be the longest time until he finally gave her a curt nod of agreement.

* * *

Collecting her supply of bandages, potions and other healing implements, Diana followed Bryce and his squire around a thicket to the nearby riverbank, leaving Alexa to set up camp with the rest of the knights. She sternly reminded herself not to provoke him. _Well, not more than is necessary_ , Diana amended, unable to stop the wayward smile that tugged at her lips. She had to admit that she did enjoy riling him up and throwing him slightly off balance.

Her eyes roved appreciatively over the virility of his physique when she saw the young lad divest his master of his armor, stripping him down to his waist. _He seems to be bulkier now_ , Diana noticed the rippling muscles of his arms, back and chest that emphasized his flat stomach and trim waist. His snug fitting black woolen hose clearly outlined his powerful legs.

"Leave us," Bryce commanded the squire when Diana reached them.

"But milord – " young Richard's protest died on his lips when his master gave him a firm look that brooked no argument. The youth gave Diana one final accusing glare before walking away.

"He is very protective of you," Diana said conversationally.

"The lad is an orphan. I am all that he has," Bryce sat cross-legged on the ground, watching her bend down, hands busy preparing the materials she needed to tend to his wound. His eyes were inadvertently riveted to her cleavage, finding it strange that it had escaped his notice just how abundantly endowed she was, the tops of her breasts plump and inviting over her skin tight leather cuirass. His eyes followed her, noting her tiny waist and gently rounded hips as she strolled toward the river to fill up a small bowl with water.

 _On second thought, it is not at all odd_. Bryce decided, since up until a few minutes ago, he had been too furiously engaged in mortal combat with her. He studied her, slightly alarmed at his growing attraction to her. She was easily the most beautiful woman he had ever set his eyes upon. And he had seen plenty. He never before lacked the company of women – from readily available wenches to the coy wellborn ladies of court – who wanted to be bedded and taken roughly by the legendary 'Lord of the Bats.' All these women however did not want him for the man that he was. Their lust to share his bed was driven by the power and bridled savagery associated with his name and position. Apparently, the thought of being 'conquered' or 'used roughly' by a man whose name was synonymous with danger and death was a very potent aphrodisiac. But his gut feeling told him that Diana was different. That she was… special. And his instincts were rarely wrong.

"Now, hold still," her lyrical voice snapped him out of his pleasurable scrutiny of her more appealing assets. She knelt down in front of him. He shifted uncomfortably, half wishing he still had on his mail to help conceal the telltale signs of the beginnings of his arousal. "This might sting a little."

Diana began cleaning the wound on his right shoulder, dabbing gently but firmly. Being this close to him again after such a long time wreaked havoc on her emotions but she tried to tamp her feelings down. With his shoulder now washed clean of the blood and grime, she gasped when she saw a very faint yet very familiar marking right on top of the junction where his arm met his torso. It was so faint that if she were not this close to him, she would not have noticed it. It was shaped like an arrowhead, an inverted 'V.'

"Lambda," she whispered.

Bryce regarded her with a confused frown.

Diana felt a shudder run down his body when she traced the mark with her fingertip. "Bae… An old… friend… has… had this exact same symbol branded on the exact same spot," she explained softly. Her heart thudded in her chest as she looked searchingly into his eyes. _Is it really you?_

"I have had it since I was a babe."

"We Greeks recognize it as 'lambda,'" Diana smiled at him tremulously, their faces inches away from each other. "It… it was used as a symbol for Laconia." _By the Spartans_ , she added silently.

"Interesting," Bryce said huskily. Somehow, Diana knew he was no longer talking about the birthmark.

His attraction to her was growing with each passing second. Like a moth to a flame, Bryce leaned forward entranced by her lush, red lips and her captivating blue eyes. There was a gentle compassion about her that filled his heart with warmth and an indomitable spirit that challenged him. There was aura about her that hinted of timelessness, something that whispered a promise of forever.

"Stitches," Diana whispered raggedly. She ducked her head and closed her eyes trying to resist his magnetism, afraid of moving too fast, too soon _._ "I think you will need stitches."

"Go on then," Bryce leaned back on his uninjured hand, wondering why she seemed so evasive. "I am at your disposal… my lady."

With shaky hands, Diana hastily grabbed a needle and thread from her satchel.

A sudden, irrational pang of jealousy coursed through him. "Who is Baerius?" Bryce winced inwardly when he heard his resentment for an unknown man reflected in his tone.

Startled that he recalled the whispered name, Diana accidentally pricked herself in the process of threading the needle. "Ow!" She exclaimed more from surprise than from pain.

He took her hand in his and thumbed away the drop of blood from her fingertip. "A lover?" His voice was spiked with self-annoyance. _It is not my place_ _to be jealous!_ He reminded himself sternly.

"A fighter," Diana replied, unable to meet his eyes. She took a steadying breath, threaded the needle and began stitching up his wound. "Gone a lifetime ago."

Trying to save face, Bryce hastily changed the topic. "You screamed something at me earlier – what did it mean?"

"I…" Diana felt her face grow warm with embarrassment. "I thought you were a demon."

Bryce's shoulders shook violently as he threw his head back laughing. The blush on her cheeks looked absolutely fetching. _'Fetching?'_ Bryce mentally shook his head, amazed at his unusual train of thought. _Lord Almighty, the next thing I know, I'll be singing ballads about her courage and beauty_.

"Hold still!"

Bryce promptly sobered up but his eyes continued to twinkle with merriment. "A demon?"

"Well, can you really blame me?" Diana asked, defensively. "That armor of yours is dreadful enough in broad daylight. In these woods, it would seem like Hades himself walked the earth again."

Bryce admired her candor. It was rare in a woman. "Where did you learn to fight like that?"

"It is customary in our society for women to learn how to defend themselves," Diana replied carefully, mindful that she must keep her true identity a secret.

"How… odd," Bryce commented lightly.

"Is it?" Diana arched an eyebrow. "You live in a world full of chaos. Do you truly find it strange that a woman would want to learn how to defend herself?"

"And what do your men do?" The corner of Bryce's lips twitched, deciding to bait her. Judging from what he had seen thus far, he knew that the Lady Diana would insist on being treated as an equal – so unlike the insipid, simpering women that he usually encountered. He found it absolutely refreshing. "Stay at home and tend the hearth?"

Bryce half groaned, half chuckled when Diana jabbed the needle into his flesh with more force than was necessary.

"Women are capable of so much more than tending to home and hearth," Diana declared heatedly. "We can be artisans, philosophers… warriors. We can rule the world if we wanted to."

"I never said otherwise," Bruce drawled, enjoying their banter.

"Well, you implied it," Diana huffed. She knotted the thread and cut it off with her dagger. "Once made equal to man, woman becomes his superior."

Bryce gaped at her. "A warrior woman who can quote Socrates." _Mother of God_ , his admiration for her went up another notch. _Is she for real?_

"You must think me silly," Diana looked away.

"I meant that as a compliment," Bryce clarified. He reached out, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tipping her face up to his, forcing her to meet his eyes. His voice turned sensual as he added, "You are a rare gem, indeed, **_my_** lady."

Diana's mind struggled in vain for a reason to forestall what her heart knew was inevitable. Her entire body began to tremble as his lips purposefully descended to hers. A shock jolted through her as the familiar feel of his lips against hers rekindled the memories of that one night of stormy passion over a thousand years ago. His mouth opened on hers and Diana lost control, her heart lurching in painful beats. She leaned into his arms, hands sliding up his bare chest, feeling his muscles bunching up in response to her touch. She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him back shyly, allowing him to part her lips, tongue probing, invading. She felt his sharp intake of breath when she moaned against his questing mouth.

Bryce could not believe the uncontrollable surge of passion that Diana was igniting within him. Her seemingly innocent caresses and sweetly tormenting kisses made his desire pulsate violently in his veins. He wanted her. Nay, he _needed_ her. It was as if his very existence depended on her. He deepened the kiss, one hand plunging into the thick, silky hair at her nape, holding her head captive and his other hand curling around her tiny waist, drawing her closer to him. His tongue darted in and out of her mouth in a blatant imitation of the deed that he desperately craved to do with her, to share with her. He shifted her onto his lap, wrapping her long legs around his waist, bringing her into contact against his turgid arousal. She melted into him, totally unconcerned with the bold evidence of his desire straining for her.

Unable to resist the divine temptress in his arms, his kisses became more demanding, Diana willingly giving. His hands had a mind of their own, stroking up and down the sides of her torso, clumsily clawing at the stays of her leather armor, desperately seeking a way to bare her full breasts. Diana moaned, pressing her body closer, wanting the same.

His heretofore silent conscience chose this very inopportune moment to make its presence known. _Damnation! You treat her like a random wench you picked up at an inn!_ It yelled at him. _Let her go! You will ruin her!_

Stunned, Bryce tore his mouth from hers, realizing the ramifications if he continued with the seduction. He closed his eyes, hands convulsing tightly on her waist, torn between kissing her again and trying to lamely pass the entire incident off as some sort of a joke. _Clearly, I have gone mad,_ he berated himself.

Diana rested her forehead against his, breathing heavily, still dazed from the passion of their kiss. _Sweet Aphrodite, it is better than I remembered._

Bryce opened his eyes and met her gaze. "This was a mistake," he said, his tone harsher than he intended. _It_ _ **is**_ _a mistake_ , he tried to convince himself. Despite the fact that she was a complete stranger to him and despite her wanton response to his touch, he knew she was innocence and decency made flesh. Impossibly, he had a feeling of certainty that Diana had never allowed any other man to take any liberties with her. No man except him. Consummating their passion would only spoil her purity, ruining her chances for a good match in the future. He instantly hated the man that would be her husband because he knew the man was unlikely to be him. And he very nearly cursed his strong code of honor for demanding that he protect her virtue.

"What?" She gasped, a small, confused frown wrinkling her brow.

Bryce steeled himself against the hurt that he saw in her yes. "This was a mistake," he repeated, his voice holding more conviction than what he actually felt. "I apologize for… for manhandling you. It will not happen again."

Gently but firmly, he lifted her from his lap and rose. He hesitated then pressed a tender kiss on her forehead. Not uttering another word, he turned and walked away.

Diana remained sitting hugging herself, fighting the tears of hurt, disappointment and frustration. Finally, when he disappeared, she buried her face on her knees and let the tears slide. After what seemed like hours, she wiped the hot tears from her cheeks, jaw set in determination.

 _You may not remember me but I vowed to you that I will never let you push me away. And I always keep my promises._

* * *

As night fell, the travellers gathered around the campfire and exchanged stories over a filling fare of wood grouse, bread and hard cheese. Sir Jonathan explained that they were on their way back to England from fighting in the Crusades. In return, Alexa told the knights that she and Diana had been travelling from town to town 'collecting stories' and that if they allowed it, she would like to add the knights' story to their collection. The scholarly redhead further mentioned that they were travelling to a town called Staufen, which according to their maps, was about a week away from where they were. It was unanimously agreed that since they were travelling in the same direction, it would be best to travel together.

Diana remained unsure of exactly what to do regarding Bryce but the campfire conversation proved to be a pleasant diversion from her perplexing dilemma. She felt an instant camaraderie between her and the battle-hardened knights who, much to her surprise, were unfailingly courteous and charming. Her bond with them reminded her of her relationship with her Amazon sisters. It was somehow the same yet different – in a good way. _They are actually not that bad_ , she thought. _Even if they are men_.

For most part, Bryce pointedly ignored Diana. Or at least she thought he did. She did not notice the discreet looks he gave her when she was not looking. She did not notice the dark glower he directed at Sir Walter when he made her laugh at his hyperbolic tales of the knights' misadventures. She did not notice the ominous ticking in his jaw when Sir Oliver compared her eyes to the sky on a bright cloudless day and her lips to the dewy petals of the reddest rose. She did not notice the tight clenching of his fists when Sir Clarence, refusing to be outdone by Sir Oliver's chivalry, boldly told her of how he would face an entire army alone for but a glimpse of her smile.

"An entire army?" Diana laughed at the outrageous claim.

"Aye, my lady," Clarence confirmed. He puffed his chest out proudly, emphasizing his powerful physique. "And I have every confidence that I will be victorious in my quest."

"Because you are strong?" Diana teased.

Clarence gave her a look that said the thought was ludicrous. "Because **_you_** will be there to save **_me_** were I to be overpowered."

"In that case," Diana's shoulders shook with mirth. "You may place yourself entirely in my capable hands."

With a sound of disgust, Bryce abruptly stood up and stalked away.

"That man is insufferable," Diana scowled, her jolly mood broken. "What is wrong with him?"

"On the contrary, my lady," a thoughtful, knowing smile tugged at the corners of Clarence's lips as he watched Bryce blend into the surrounding darkness. Unlike Diana, he did not miss any of Bryce's agitated body language. He reached out and gave Diana's arm a small brotherly squeeze. "Everything is just right."

The morning after, the group broke camp after eating and freshening up. Sir Walter went ahead on foot to scout the terrain. His warhorse was being used to carry the women's belongings.

Diana looked up as she saw Clarence approach leading his horse.

"Diana, will you do me the honor of riding with me?" the handsome knight asked with a congenial smile.

"I'd be glad – " Diana started to reply.

"She rides with me," Bryce interrupted brusquely, riding up to them atop the majestic Titan.

"Thank you, but no," Diana replied coolly, hating how she had to look up to meet his gaze. "I prefer to ride with Clarence."

"I said you will ride with me," Bryce enunciated each word crisply.

"And I said," Diana matched his tone. "I want to ride with Clarence."

"Peace!" Clarence exclaimed. "Let us take turns then. Lady Diana can ride with you today and with me tomorrow," he suggested magnanimously, fighting back a grin.

Diana began to mumble under her breath but Clarence forged on doggedly. "Please, Diana. For me?"

"Fine," Diana bit out. "But only because you asked nicely. Unlike some people." She shot a pointed look at Bryce.

Wordlessly, Bryce held out a hand to her. The second she placed her hand on his, he hauled her up unceremoniously onto his horse.

Diana twisted trying to face him. "Must you always – "

His arm snaked around her waist and yanked her hard against him. "Don't you ever again talk to me in that tone of voice in front of my men. Do you understand?" His breath was hot against her ear.

"Of all the insolent –" Her indignant reply was cut off when he spurred his horse to a fast gallop.

Bryce was seething. At Diana. At Clarence. Diana and Clarence. He had prowled the woods during the night, unable to banish the mental picture of Diana flirting with his closest friend. His overactive imagination tormented him with visions of Diana in Clarence's arms locked in a passionate embrace. Of her pliant lips surrendering to Clarence's kiss. Of her luxurious hair splayed over Clarence's bare chest during the sated lassitude that one experienced after the most intimate of actions.

But most of all, Bryce was angry with himself. Angry for caring. Angry for his lack of control. Angry for being angry. Self-disgust ate at him like acid. In the wee hours of the morning, his keen mind weighed his options, objectively looking at the facts and finding solutions. The way he saw it, he wanted her and she wanted him. And his certainty that it was not just a passing dalliance was absolute. Despite knowing her for only one day, there was no doubt in his mind that they suited each other because every time he looked at her, he would get a feeling that he already knew her – that his soul knew her. It was very unlike him to have his emotions override his logic but try as he might, he could not stop himself. They would be spending an entire week together and it would take some holy miracle from the heavens above for him to keep his hands off her.

 _There is only one thing that I_ _ **can**_ _do_ , he decided with a wry twist to his lips – woo her into going all the way to England with him. When he finally came up with a plan, he felt like a great burden was lifted off his shoulders. And despite the sleepless night, he greeted the sunrise with excellent spirits knowing that he now had something concrete to work toward. He was about to put his strategy into action by asking Diana to ride with him but Clarence beat him to it. What's worse, they seemed to be on first name basis. He could not contain his fury at the familiarity.

But now that he had Diana riding with him, her body pressed securely against his, he could feel his anger slowly ebbing away. Belatedly realizing that he was driving Titan at an impossible pace, he slowed the destrier down and dismounted, leading him to the river for a drink.

Diana dismounted as well and she studied him silently. She had felt his mood shift for the better during their ride. Remembering her long ago vow, she decided that it was most prudent to establish a more amiable atmosphere between them.

"My lord," Diana said tentatively, keenly aware of his mercurial disposition.

"Bryce!" he snapped.

"I…" Diana stared at the back of his head, dumbfounded. "I am aware of your name."

"Then use it!" The irate earl rounded up on her. Diana stepped back from the wrath reflected on his blue-eyed gaze. He stalked her step per step. "If you can address _Clarence_ by his given name, you can certainly address me by mine!"

Realizing that she was retreating like a coward, Diana planted her feet, firmly standing her ground. "It is to my understanding that the proper way to address an earl like you is to call you 'my lord' as if you were my master and I your slave, unless you bid me otherwise."

"Well, I'm bidding you to call me Bryce!"

"And I am waiting for you to ask me nicely… _my lord_."

Bryce's fists clenched tightly by his side, his entire body quivering with the effort to control his rage. Diana crossed her arms over her chest, holding her chin at an impertinent angle. "You are impossible," he finally said. His obsession with wanting to hear his name upon her lips was bordering on the ridiculous.

"As are you, _my lord_."

"Stubborn chit." A rueful chuckle escaped his lips when he realized the hilarity of it all. Bryce could not resist chucking her lightly under the chin. "My lady, it would please me greatly if you would call me Bryce."

"See? That wasn't so hard now, was it?" He was rewarded with the most dazzling smile. It hit him like a kick to the stomach. "And you may call me Diana… Bryce."

He regarded her with an amused grin. "I have a proposition for you… Diana."

"Pray tell."

"Since it will take us a sennight to reach Staufen," Bryce began. "I believe it is in our best interest if we behaved more… congenially… toward each other."

"For once," Diana's smile widened. "I agree with you."

"And would you also agree," Bryce looked at her slyly. "That despite my rather… volatile and uh – boorish nature, you are, in fact, attracted to me?"

A hot flush suffused her cheeks at his blunt but accurate assessment of their situation. "You arrogant, conceited –"

Bryce held up a hand, interrupting her tirade. "The truth, Diana."

Diana pursed her lips struggling with herself. Finally, she nodded reluctantly.

"Very well," Bryce continued. Diana was not sure but she could almost hear the relief in his voice. "My proposition is this – If, in our journey to Staufen, I am able to prove to you that I can be the most agreeable of companions, you will journey with me to England thereafter."

Diana blinked rapidly trying to absorb his strange proposal. "I… I don't understand… What do you get in return?"

Bryce answered her question without a word. He stepped closer to her, running his hands up and down her arms. His eyes captured hers then he bent his head, firmly pressing his lips against hers in a brief but meaningful kiss. He rubbed her lower lip with his thumb, waiting for her to answer.

 _And then what?_ Diana stared at him, dumbstruck. With all her heart, she wanted to say yes but she knew she would ultimately be expected to go back to Themyscira. _How do I keep a promise without breaking another?_

Bryce saw the conflicting emotions on her expressive face. "You don't have to decide now. Just promise me that you'll think about it."

"I will."

* * *

The next two days of their journey remained relatively uneventful with the women blending seamlessly into the knights' well-oiled routine. The days took on a surreal quality for Diana when Bryce stayed true to his word. She had always known that he was a warrior in a classic sense. But little by little, she learned more of the man underneath the armor. True, there was a part of him that was terrifying, borderline obsessed. But he was also brilliant and driven. He was stubborn and ruthless but it only made Diana want to improve herself even more.

And always – _always_ – he treated her like an equal. Philippus had always seen her as a student with much potential albeit a rebellious one. Artemis had always been condescending. Her mother was protective. Most of her friends were warm enough with her but there was always a certain amount of reflex deference toward her as heir to the Amazonian throne. Even Alexa held her with a bit of awe. But Bryce… Bryce was chivalrous, of course – as was expected from him in this day and age. But his respect for her individuality was undeniable. He treated her like a true equal… a partner.

During the day, he charmed her, teased her and made her laugh as they rode. At night, he would take her on nighttime strolls that usually ended up with passionate kisses and caresses. They could talk about anything and everything. They did not see eye to eye at all times but Diana enjoyed their differences and it seemed that he did so as well. It only made their conversations more challenging, more interesting. She could almost forget to think about what the future might hold for them. Diana had tentatively broached the topic of going all the way to England with Alexa. The good-natured Amazon readily agreed saying that she had read much about the island kingdom and would love to see it with her own eyes. Diana was delighted at the opportunity to prolong her time with Bryce but somehow, her heart was burdened with the thought that sooner or later, their time together would have to end.

 _How do I tell him the truth?_ Diana deliberated. _Will he believe me? Will he accept who I really am? How will he react? Do I even tell him?_

For the first time since never, Bryce felt at peace and dare he say… happy. Diana's presence was like a soothing balm to his scarred and weary spirit. In the short time that he spent with her, she had begun successfully tearing down the walls that he had erected around himself. She had found the tiniest crevices and seeded them with creepers, which slowly but surely, caused the thick barrier to crumble. She made him feel vulnerable and yet… she somehow made him feel complete. But a nagging thought weighed heavily on his mind – King Stephen had mentioned a possible marriage with Lady Celine, which meant that upon his arrival, a betrothal would likely be imminent. It would not be surprising for the monarch to expect Bryce to sacrifice himself in the altar of matrimony in exchange for gaining a political ally. Saying no would constitute treason. And he could not – would not – disrespect Diana by making her his mistress.

 _We could run_ , he thought. But the very image of doing so was enough to make him blanch. _What kind of man would I be if I forced her into living that kind of life? I should not have gone this far._ But Bryce knew it was too late. Diana was already in his blood. He was hooked. For a man who always had a plan, he was dumbfounded.

The third day of their journey was dampened by their respective troubled thoughts. Silence reigned supreme as they rode onward to Staufen. But they were so attuned to one another that they did not need any explanations. Diana contented herself with leaning against the comfort of Bryce's solid chest and he held her tighter than usual, wanting to never let go.

When the group set up camp for the night, Clarence walked over to Bryce and Diana. "My lord, a word, if I may?"

Bryce's hand shot out to grab Diana's hand when she made a move to give them some privacy. Without letting her go, he nodded to his friend. "Whatever words you need to say can be said in Diana's presence."

"Very well," Clarence obliged. In another time, he would have grinned at the sight of the couple holding hands. "Walter has not come back. This is… uncommon… for him."

"I know," Bryce said.

"And he hasn't left any signs," Clarence pointed out. Bryce frowned, contemplating.

"Signs?" Diana asked, curious.

"You would not have noticed them, Diana," Clarence explained. "But our company had long ago agreed on a set of symbols. Whoever scouts will leave behind something to signal the others of what's ahead. Something inconspicuous – it could be two crossed twigs or stones positioned in a certain way – it could be anything. Only those who know where to look and what to look for will see and understand."

"And leaving no sign is a sign in and of itself," Diana concluded. Bryce smiled a little at her astuteness.

She took a decisive step forward but Bryce squeezed her hand to stay. She gave him a confused look. "Shouldn't we go and look for him?"

"It is rare for Walter to do this – true. But there have been occasions when he has."

"I do not have a good feeling about this, Bryce," Clarence told him.

"As do I. But until we know more, we must act with care. You know very well that Walter can take care of himself," Bryce flashed him a meaningful look. "You know what to do."

Clarence dipped his head in a small bow and walked away.

Dinner seemed so subdued without the quips and puns of the fun loving Walter. As soon as they finished eating, Oliver scurried up a tree while the rest settled down for sleep. "In times like this," Bryce explained, taking out a small whetting stone from one of the numerous pockets of his belt bag. "We double up on the watch. One takes the high ground and another patrols the perimeter."

"A sound plan," Diana nodded in approval. She watched as Bryce methodically sharpened the edges of his sword. The light from the campfire glinted off the shiny metal as he inspected its sharpness. Diana squinted trying to decipher the engraving on its blade.

 _Tempus fugit non amor_.

"Time flees but not love," she whispered.

"This has been handed down in my family for generations," Bryce told her. He stared at Diana with a speculative gaze. "The original inscription was in ancient Greek. One of my ancestors had it translated to Latin at the height of the Roman Empire. Here, have a look. It has faded over time but maybe you can make something out of it." He held out the blade, turning it over to show her the original engraving on the opposite side.

Awed, Diana ran her fingertips over the cold hard steel, her acute vision easily making out the time-weathered markings. Her heart thudded with nostalgia, feeling like she just found a tattered page of a long lost love letter. _This was his only way to send me his message of love through time_. She held back a bittersweet smile. _And only a Spartan would expect a sword to endure forever_.

"A strange aphorism for the hands that wielded it," Diana observed, deliberately not voicing out the translation of the original message. "Do you know its history?" She asked in what she hoped was a nonchalant manner. _Please remember_.

"This sword is so old that the real story is lost in time, I'm afraid," Bryce shook his head.

"There have been many variations over the centuries," he continued with a hint of a smile. "One such story said that supposedly, the goddess Aphrodite herself gave this sword to a fierce and brave warrior. But regardless of its true origin, there has always been one constant theme. Family lore has it that the first owner of this sword vowed, with his dying breath, to never rest until he found his true love again."

"That is so… tragic," Diana said. She closed her eyes in an effort to keep poignant tears from falling.

"Indeed," Bryce concurred. "But such is a warrior's life."

"Do you have one?" Diana asked softly.

"One what?"

"A true love."

They stared at each other for what seemed like infinite heartbeats until Bryce forcibly broke eye contact. He sheathed his sword.

"I do," he answered silently, staring into the fire. "But I am no longer entirely certain if it is fair to the woman who holds my heart if I gave her widow's weeds as a bride gift," he stood up abruptly. "Forgive me, I need to patrol the perimeter."

* * *

 **A/N:**

Town trivia! (For those who don't already know anyway)

Gottam (Gotham) is the Old English word for "goat home." It is a village in Nottinghamshire, England whose residents were famed for being stupid. In truth, the villagers feigned madness to avoid a Royal Highway being built through the village. Madness was believed to be highly contagious at that time.

The German town of Staufen im Breisgau is noted in history for its association with Dr. Faustus who, according to legend, sold his soul to the Devil for unlimited knowledge and power (And in all likelihood, he was probably the inspiration for the DC villain/evil sorcerer Felix Faust).


	4. Chapter 4

_BMWW and all other DC characters are not mine. I have also lifted quotes/info from various sources, paraphrased, made references to movies/tv shows, etc. All done to help me progress this story. I'll try my best to give credit to all of them but I do apologize if I miss some. Thank you to my meta errr... beta **editlady617**. And thank you everybody for reading my story and giving me feedback. This story would not have gone this far without your kind reviews. :)_

* * *

 _Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation. But though lovers be lost, love shall not. And death shall have no dominion.*  
_ – _Alexa's diary  
_ _October 1151 AD_

 **CHAPTER 3**

Diana tossed and turned. It had been hours since she took her turn at patrol but sleep evaded her. Too many thoughts were tumbling inside her head – her complicated relationship with Bryce, the disappearance of Sir Walter. Bryce was still out there persistently watching out for the group, alternating between patrolling on ground and stalking from the treetops. The stubborn man simply refused to take his turn at rest. Moreover, her intuition told her that something bad was going to happen and try as she might, she could not quell the feeling of foreboding. Finally, after several hours, Diana succumbed to fitful slumber.

Morning came but it did not bring any sign of the missing knight. Diana watched Bryce speak softly to Henry and Oliver. The two knights nodded gravely and set out on foot. She rose and slowly made her way toward the earl.

"Take Henry's horse and get ready to ride," he told her without preamble. The corners of his eyes were tight with worry and lack of sleep. But his haggard face also held a look of unwavering resolve, his entire body radiating a readiness that reminded Diana of a predator waiting to pounce on his prey – or more fittingly, a lion expecting to defend his den from unknown attackers.

As soon as everyone was ready, Bryce arranged them into a loose diamond formation with Alexa and Richard in the center. He took the lead, of course, and Clarence and Jonathan automatically fell behind to his right and left, respectively.

"Take up the rearguard, Diana," Bryce's tone was soft yet firm, a command delivered like a polite request.

Diana almost smiled at his strategy. Had he told her to stay behind him for her own safety, she would have protested vigorously. Charging her with the defensive position of the rearguard meant that she was relatively safe from a frontal attack but it also meant that he trusted her enough to guard his back. The significance was not at all lost to Diana. It confirmed to her that he indeed cared enough to want to keep her away from harm but that he also respected her enough not to underestimate her abilities.

By mid afternoon, they came upon a small glade near a tributary of one of the many rivers that traversed the Black Forest and Bryce signalled for a stop. The group dismounted and Richard and Alexa led the horses to the bubbling stream for a drink.

"We wait for Oliver and Henry here," Bryce announced.

"An easily defendable place to set camp," Clarence agreed.

Several minutes later, Oliver appeared. "Lord Bryce, we've found something," he reported. "You might want to see it for yourself."

Bryce sent a look to Jonathan. The normally tacit knight stood up from where he was sitting and tipped his head, acquiescing to the quiet command. "I'll see to the Lady Alexa and young Richard."

Bryce, Diana and Clarence followed Oliver deeper into the forest until they came upon Henry.

"I've found the tracks of six men," Henry explained briskly. "One of them was – is – Walter."

"You are… certain?" While not a stranger to the art of tracking, Diana found the knight's skills uncanny.

"Aye, my lady," Henry smiled. He started walking around, pointing out several scratches at the base of some trees. "These marks were made by boots' spurs. The time when these marks were made coincides with the time Walter disappeared. And see here…" He knelt down and pried something out of one of the gashes in the tree's gnarly roots. He held up a small golden rowel.

"Golden spurs are forbidden to anyone save for a knight," Bryce explained when he saw Diana's questioning look.

"And the height is just about right," Henry continued. "The depth of the footprints is consistent with Walter's weight as well."

"These are signs of a struggle," Oliver added and pointed to several areas on the ground around them. "It would also seem that Walter was trying to lead them away from the path we were taking."

"Several yards into that area," Henry explained further, pointing toward the northeast. "The six sets of prints become five. It is my opinion that Walter was overpowered and carried away."

"Is he alive?" Diana asked, worried for the happy-go-lucky knight.

"While there are several traces of blood, there is not enough to indicate that he acquired a fatal wound so he should be," Henry deduced. "Why bother carrying him otherwise?"

"They took him hostage," Bryce concluded. "Whoever 'they' may be."

"Aye, my lord," Henry concurred. "It would seem so."

"The why remains to be seen," Bryce murmured, rubbing his jaw.

"What now?" Clarence asked Bryce.

"We wait until night fall."

* * *

"What is taking him so long?" Diana paced the campfire. Immediately at sundown, Bryce ventured alone into the unknown to investigate what they were up against. It had been hours since he left.

"Do not worry yourself overmuch, Lady Diana," Clarence tried to soothe her. He gestured at the blackness that surrounded them. "In this, Lord Bryce is at his element. I have yet to meet the person who can best him when it comes to stealth and reconnaissance."

"Somebody should've gone with him at least," Diana insisted.

Oliver gave her a reassuring grin. "He works best alone, my lady – most of the time anyway."

"But this time, I'm going to need all the help I can get."

Everybody jumped at the disembodied voice that came out of nowhere and drew their weapons before they realized it was their leader. He threw back the hood of his cloak when he stepped out from the shadows. He was wearing his black, snug-fitting, quilted gambeson and woolen hose, opting to forego his bulky mail and plate armor so as to make no noise whilst he gathered information. His dark clothes melded so well with his shadowy surroundings that his head seemed to float on thin air.

"Now, do you understand what I meant when I said he was in his element?" Clarence sheathed his sword, giving Diana a sheepish look.

"The trail led me to the encampment of a small army," Bryce informed them grimly. "One hundred and fifty men as far as I can tell… quite possibly more."

"Who leads them?" Henry asked.

"Hamon FitzRobert," Bryce answered flatly.

Oliver gave a low whistle. "Empress Maude's nephew?"

"A coincidence, my lord?" Jonathan queried but the look on his face said he knew otherwise.

Bryce shook his head in confirmation of Jonathan's suspicions. His features turned harder, eyes colder. "I overheard Hamon mention Lorin's name. I do not think he is here but apparently, my dear brother wants me dead so he can take over my estates and for that, he has pledged loyalty to the Empress."

"That treacherous, two-faced bastard!" Clarence cursed under his breath. "Begging your pardon, my ladies." The mild-mannered knight apologized for the use of profanity in front of the women.

"What of Walter?" Diana brought the focus back to the more pressing matter.

Bryce's intense gaze softened somewhat when he looked at her. "I was able to get close enough to see him being held under guard in a tent right in the middle of the camp."

"How are we going to free him?"

" _ **I**_ can bring him out," Bryce raised his hand when he saw that Diana about to object against his implication that he could single-handedly traipse into the midst of a hundred hostile soldiers to rescue his friend. He gave his knights an encompassing look. "I am hoping that he will be fit enough for stealth but I doubt it. If we're seen…"

"We'll provide a distraction," Clarence stated without hesitation. The other knights nodded their agreement. The four quickly dispersed to make their preparations.

"Diana, you need not get yourself involved in this," Bryce turned to her. "You should – "

"Stay and fight," Diana interjected, lifting her chin stubbornly, daring him to contradict her.

Bryce closed his eyes and took a deep breath, visibly struggling with himself. Finally, he met her resolute gaze. He tried once again to dissuade her. "I need you to stay behind and guard – "

"No," Diana shook her head vehemently. "That 'honor of the rearguard' ploy is not going to work this time, Bryce. Have Alexa and Richard travel on to Staufen now and tell them not to stop until they've reached its safety. I am going with you and that is final."

"You do not understand the gravity of what you're asking me to do," his voice shook with barely leashed emotion. "Demand anything from me but this, Diana." _If something ever happened to you…_

"And if our roles were reversed?" Diana persevered. "Would you leave if I told you to?"

He stood staring at her, unable to argue against her logic. Left with nothing else to do, he grabbed her by the nape and planted a hard, devouring kiss on her lips. Diana clung to him and returned his kiss with equal intensity in a desperate attempt to express all the feelings that they shared for each other. One kiss, one bittersweet kiss to reconcile centuries of emotion in a fleeting heartbeat.

"Princess..." he whispered against her lips. He froze.

Diana's eyes flew open. "What did you call me?"

"I..." Bryce blinked in confusion. "I... I'm sorry... I don't know where that came from... God in heaven, please don't think that I'm thinking of another while I'm -"

"No, I know you're not," Diana whispered. She cradled his face in her hands. _At least he remembers that much..._ "I know what you mean... and nothing could be more right."

"Diana, I..." Bryce rested his forehead on hers, breathing hard. His hesitation was palpable. "Whatever happens to me, know that I… I – "

"Don't," Diana choked, pressing a finger against his firm lips. A superstitious part of her was afraid that if he professed his love now, it would only lead to disaster. She blinked rapidly trying to fight back the tears that suddenly filled her eyes. "You don't have to tell me now. Tell me later. Tell me when this is all over."

Bryce nodded in understanding. He straightened and composed his features.

"Never give up."

Her lips quivered into a smile at his reference to the Spartan code. "Never surrender."

* * *

Bryce cunningly timed their incursion an hour after midnight – halfway through the third watch – when the perimeter guards were the least alert and those who slept were in the middle of deep slumber. The six fighters crept side by side up a rise so small that it can be barely called a hill. Bryce gestured down to a large clearing in the trees.

"Walter is inside that one," Bryce pointed out a pale blur of the tent in the middle of the encampment, his voice the barest of whispers. "I will enter it from the north. Clarence, Diana, you move in from the east. Jon and Henry, take the west. Oliver, cover us from the south. If Walter is injured, I will get him on one of the horses there." He pointed to the horse lines by the outer edges of the camp.

"Once you get into your positions," he continued with his instructions. "Give me a slow count of three hundred then start moving in. Take out as many as you can and as silently as possible. That should even the odds. Once somebody raises the alarm, we fight our way out then split up. We could rendezvous at Staufen but they'll expect us to do that, as it is the nearest town. So don't make your way there. We would not want the innocents besieged if it can be helped. Follow that star, instead," Bryce pointed to a red star twinkling in the nighttime sky. "Keep following it until you reach the coast. I _**will**_ find you."

"Honor to serve, my lord," Clarence clasped Bryce's forearm. "For Walter."

"For Walter," the others murmured in accord.

"Have a care," Bryce gave one final warning before they went their separate ways. His narrowed eyes roamed the treetops. "There's… something else… _someone_ else… prowling the night. And I am not certain if they be friend or foe."

* * *

Diana crept silently, working methodically with Clarence, almost not daring to breathe for fear of being discovered too soon. A part of her quailed at having to take the lives of so many men, but she forced herself to ignore the feeling.

 _This is for Walter_ , she reminded herself, pressing her lips together in a grim line. _What needs to be done,_ _ **must**_ _be done._

This was war – having casualties was an unfortunate but unavoidable consequence. She tried to ease her conscience by telling herself that had it been the other way around, these men would show her no mercy, they would give her no quarter. She thought back to the atrocities that befell the Amazons more than a millennia ago. Once, they were a peaceful nation, living side by side in harmony and unity with men and the neighboring tribes. Aside from the capital Themyscira, her ancestors founded thriving cities and temples of Smyrna, Sinope, Cyme and many others. But man's greed for power was poison. It drove him to betray. It drove him to conquer. Those who died instantly were the lucky ones for they did not have to suffer long. Most were doomed to be raped, tortured and left for dead. Those who survived were forced into a life of servitude as slaves. Only a handful escaped. _Some things may have changed for the better over the centuries_ , Diana thought. _But some things have not. And until it does, if I have to kill in order to defend, then so be it._

It still left a bitter taste in her mouth, however. _Never hold yourself back_ , she heard Artemis' disdainful voice in her head.

 _"THE PRISONER HAS ESCAPED!"_

" _INTRUDERS!"_

" _SOUND THE ALARM!"_

Diana heard Clarence curse succinctly as they were discovered. In the initial chaos and confusion that erupted, it was easy for the duo to disarm and incapacitate the enemy but as soon as the soldiers found their bearings, the carnage truly began.

Diana drew her sword and rushed forward with a fierce battle cry, effectively drawing the attention to herself. Many paused, surprised to see a woman who evidently wanted to engage in combat with men who not only outsized her but also outnumbered her. Their hesitation cost them their lives. Diana was able to strike down five men before the other soldiers were spurred into action.

Clarence was right alongside her, swinging his mighty broadsword. With each powerful stroke, men fell like twigs against his sharp blade. In the opposite end of the camp, she saw Jonathan and Henry do the same. The deafening clash and clang of steel was interspersed with shouts of rage and screams of agony. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw arrows from Oliver's bow zip through the night to find their marks on their enemies' bodies.

" _IT'S THE LORD OF THE BATS! KILL HIM!"_

Diana whirled around in time to see Bryce hoist a weakened Walter up onto a horse, giving the animal a hard slap on the rump, setting him off on a wild gallop into the woods. Her eyes widened with alarm when she saw at least twenty soldiers converge on Bryce, brandishing their swords with a vengeance. Determinedly, Diana began to hack a path toward him. She felt like she was in a nightmare, one where her feet were stuck in a quagmire.

Never had she seen a more heart stopping display of combat prowess as Bryce met his enemies head on – his attacks a perfect combination of quick reflexes and unbridled strength. He had such incredible skill with the sword that he took down ten of his opponents before they finally overpowered him. Diana's blood ran cold when the rest of the men piled on top of him, thrusting down with their swords over and over again.

"Great Hera!" the earnest plea for help flew from her lips. "Give me strength!"

As if the goddess heard her, she felt a surge of power race through her veins, suffusing her muscles, granting her added energy and strength. She plowed savagely through those who stood between her and Bryce. Miraculously, she saw him spring up from the heap that crushed him, blue eyes flashing, lips curled in a rictus snarl. Blood was running down the sides of his face and neck, his gambeson torn in numerous places. He held his sword high over his head and with a wordless yell, swung it in a wide arc, slicing through several enemies at once.

"Archers!" Clarence yelled out a warning.

Diana spun, scanning her surroundings and quickly noted that five bows were aimed at Bryce from five different directions. The archers loosed.

"Bryce!" she screamed running toward him. And because there was no other way to protect him from the incoming arrows, Diana flung herself in front of him.

Diana gasped as the first arrow pierced clean through the flesh of her unarmored shoulder, the sharp head imbedding itself halfway into the thick muscles of Bryce's chest. Had she not shielded him with her own body, the arrow would have stabbed him straight in the heart.

"Diana!" Bryce froze when he heard the awful thud of three more arrows lodging mercilessly into her back, another hitting her in back of the thigh.

Diana strained for breath, hands convulsing around Bryce's shoulders. "Bryce…"

"Get her out of here!" Clarence roared, cleaving two of his opponents.

Heedless of his own pain, Bryce tore the arrow free from his chest. He lifted Diana onto his arms and ran clumsily toward the protection of the dense forest. He dimly noted that Clarence, Jonathan and Henry had moved into a semi-circle, fighting side by side, valorously covering their escape, buying them time. Even Oliver had come down from his perch to fight with his sword instead of his bow. Bryce ran awkwardly, each jarring step he took wrung a soft groan from Diana. He ran and ran, lungs burning, wounds screaming, heart gripped in a terror that he had never felt before. Each second felt like hours and Diana was growing very heavy, a dead weight in his arms.

 _She's just fainted_ , Bryce tried to fight down his panic. _She not… She could not be…_ He could not bring himself to think of the worst. Injured as he was and carrying his beloved burden, he knew that he would never be able to outrun the army behind him. His eyes searched the darkness, desperately looking for a place that might afford them even a small measure of safety, long enough for him to check on her.

"Sire!"

Bryce whirled around at the loud hiss behind him. He saw Richard wildly beckoning at him. He ran to his squire, half relieved that the lad did not follow his orders to travel on to Staufen. He slid down the small ravine hidden by large roots and fallen tree trunks.

"Diana!" Alexa gasped at the sight of her unconscious friend.

"Quickly, Richard," Bryce ordered. He sighed with relief when Diana moaned softly as Richard tugged at the arrowhead firmly but carefully.

"Hold on, Diana," Bryce whispered urgently, ignoring the pain from his own wounds.

"The arrowheads are barbed, milord," Richard told him. "We cannot possibly pull them out without causing further harm. And pushing them through…" the lad trailed off, afraid to voice out the worst.

 _'Twould only make her bleed to death without the immediate aid from a healer_ , a small voice told Bryce. Dread settled in the pit of his stomach upon the realization that Diana had sustained fatal injuries. That she did it to save him…

Bryce's hand trembled when he grasped the arrowhead protruding from Diana's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Princess…" with a deft twist of his wrist, he broke the shaft.

"Please," he whispered achingly, trying to fight back the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. He cradled her in his arms, rocking her like a baby. "Stay with me…"

Blessedly, Diana's eyes fluttered open. She lifted a hand to touch his face, her fingertips barely grazing his jaw. "You're safe…"

Bryce swallowed convulsively, covering her hand with his, pressing it hard against his cheek and trying to infuse what remained of his own strength into her. "Because of you."

"You're… alright…" her breath came in painful, labored gasps. "That is… all… that… matters…"

"No," Bryce turned his head, kissing her palm. "What matters is that you stay alive. Do you hear me, Diana? I need you to stay alive. I need you…"

She gave him a sad smile. "Kiss me…"

Bryce dipped his head, responding to her request. He pressed his lips softly against to hers. The contact brought out a small sigh of joy from Diana. _Don't go… don't leave me…_ his heart whispered. And at that moment, he fully embraced his feelings for her. _I love you_ … he lifted his head, intending to tell her but suddenly, Diana went slack in his arms, head falling back on her shoulders.

"No…" His hand roved her beloved face, fingers reverently caressing her cheeks, her nose, her eyes, her lips. He grabbed her limp wrist, urgently feeling for a pulse. There was none. He shook his head in denial. "No… No. No. No. Diana wake up. For the love of God, please wake up."

"Don't die," he pleaded hoarsely, burying his face into her hair as despair wrapped around his chest like a vise and then very slowly, very deliberately, squeezed his heart until he found it difficult to breathe. Never had he experienced this kind of excruciating pain before.

"Don't. Die." The tears that he had been valiantly holding at bay finally broke through the dam of his control. _Please, God_ , he prayed fervently. His hunched shoulders shook with silent sobs. _I'll do anything… Just give me one more chance to look into her eyes so I can tell her… Please… I beg you…_ Richard and Alexa looked away, overwhelmed with the intensity of his grief.

But his prayer remained unanswered. He stroked her cheek tenderly with his hand. Having seen countless of men perish in battle, Bryce was well acquainted with the face of death. As the soul departed from the body, it would leave nothing behind save for an ashen gray husk devoid of all vitality and life. But it seemed that even death would dare not touch Diana's beauty. Her skin remained smooth, cheeks flushed, lips redder than the reddest rose. She looked like she was sleeping peacefully in his arms. He gazed down upon her, unconsciously memorizing every feature.

 _I never told her_ , he thought in anguish. _I should have told her._

The sound of running feet and clanging armor penetrated the fog of his heartache and sorrow. He lifted his head, eyes narrowing with a murderous glare. Gently, he set Diana's limp body down and stood up, scrubbed his face free of the tears, jaws set with grim determination.

Alexa's hand shot out and gripped his wrist with a strength borne of desperation and fear. "My lord…" she whispered, shaking her head, green eyes beseeching him to stand down. "Please…"

Bryce pulled his arm firmly from Alexa's grasp. Alexa hugged herself, taking an involuntary step backward, shivering from the expression on his granite face. He looked more terrifying than the nocturnal creature he was named after. He emanated a spine-chilling aura of danger… of violence… of death. There was something raw and primal lurking in those glacial blue eyes of his – a promise of rage yearning to be unleashed, a promise of absolute retribution.

Wordlessly, Bryce climbed up the ravine and disappeared into the night.

* * *

 _ **Themyscira**_

Diana stared at the pieces of shattered glass by her feet. "How?"

"As you know, your powers have not yet been fully unlocked, Diana," Alexa told her as gently as she could. "Instead of healing, your body entered a state of suspended animation. Your injuries were extensive. It took all of Epione's healing skills – and more – to bring you back. A mere mortal could not have survived."

"Bryce thinks I'm dead?" Diana whispered. "How… how did we get here?"

"Artemis convinced him to let us bring your body home."

Diana's brows furrowed in confusion. "Artemis?"

"She has been following us all along," Alexa explained.

"She was _what_?!" Diana stood up in fury, swaying a little, still weak from her brush with death. "And she did not lift a finger to help?!"

"She did, Diana," Alexa replied. "She came out of nowhere when all seemed lost. Without her, none of us would have survived. And even then, we lost Sir Jonathan and Sir Clarence." Her lower lip trembled when she spoke the names of the two valiant knights. "The rest were… were gravely injured."

"Bryce?" Diana looked at her friend in alarm.

"He lives," Alexa answered simply, wisely deciding that it would be best not to tell her distraught friend that the earl himself had a tenuous hold on life. His injuries were so severe that Alexa was afraid he would not make it. He had fought like a demon possessed, an enraged man consumed by vengeance, one who no longer cared if he lived or died.

"I… I should go to him…" Diana paced.

"And do what, sister?" Alexa's eyes shone with sympathy. But her emerald gaze also bore the harsh light of reality. "Explain to him that you are the princess of the mythical Amazons imbued with immortality by the gods of Olympus? The world is not yet ready to accept our secret."

Diana sat down heavily onto the bed, defeated. She cradled her head in her hands, staring blankly at the floor, not knowing what to do. She felt numb. Empty.

"Here," Alexa said softly. Diana looked up when she heard the scrape of a sword being unsheathed. "He… he asked that you be buried with this."

The rays of sunlight rippled along the age-old _xiphos_ making the original Greek inscription stand out distinctly. A lone tear slid down Diana's cheek when she read it.

 _My love is eternal_.

* * *

 **A/N :**

*The "Alexa's diary" quote in this chapter came from two writers: Kahlil Gibran and Dylan Thomas. "Alexa's diary" is a personal/secret journal and NOT an official entry in the Amazon chronicles because… well, writing about the Princess' love life and publishing it for all to see is just not done. LOL

 _Xiphos_ – a short sword used by Spartan warriors  
Epione – the Amazons' chief healer (as per WW wiki)

Many have asked who Sir Henry is… Truth be told, I, myself, was not too sure of who I wanted Henry (and Jonathan) to be! LOL… I just wanted 5 fighters to represent a medieval Justice League (Bryce and Diana make 7) and it's kinda hard to create a medieval counterpart for the ring-wielding Green Lantern (and a shape shifting telepath Martian). That's why I shied away from writing too much about them and focused more on the easier to write and readily recognized Clark, Wally and Ollie. So, Henry may have been John Stewart or Hal Jordan. Take your pick ;)

Harold Robert Bryce Wainwright and this timeline were inspired by an Earth-One character, Harold Wayne. The DC Wikia entry goes: "In the waning days of the Crusades, a man named Harold served as the first lord of Waynemoor Castle in Northern England until he died, childless and unmarried, at which point his brother Lorin took over the estate. Centuries later, it was discovered by Lorin's descendant – Bruce Wayne, the Batman – that Harold was actually murdered by Lorin."


	5. Chapter 5

_Just a few thoughts before you start reading this update: I mentioned in the 'prologue' that Saudade was dedicated in part to Gaz1247, I believe the fanfiction world knows him as **Aztec-08** :) Also, I want y'all to know that **DaisyJane** is clairvoyant. And finally, **editlady617** , get well soon!  
_

* * *

 **CHAPTER 4**

 _ **London, 1772**_

 _He peered through the dark, misty woods like an animal scenting danger. The feeling of trepidation began to throb within his chest. He never saw such thick fog before except… except… he could not remember. But it was all eerily familiar. He took a tentative step forward and gave a small startled jump when the trees sprung to life, branches reaching out toward him menacingly._

 _He fled, fear seizing his heart in a tight grip. The thick fog cloaked ghostly shadows as they stalked him through the haunted forest. He did not know where he was going, lost in a horror he could not name. The feeling of dread grew and grew until it was almost palpable. He sped on, lungs bursting, heart hammering, the mist like cold fingers caressing his cheek, wrapping itself around his ankles. His eyes roved desperately around him, seeking for the safety that lay somewhere just beyond the gray mist._

 _Then, before his eyes, there loomed a figure enshrouded in a dark cloak, walking sedately as if there was nothing to be alarmed about. Somehow, he knew that the figure could lead him to a place of refuge from this maddening forest of uncertainty. He called out to the mysterious form but whoever it was continued walking. He willed his feet to run faster. When he was within arm's reach, his hand clamped down onto the figure's shoulder._

 _The stranger turned around._

 _The face had no discernible features, blurred by the darkness and mist surrounding them… Except for the eyes. No amount of fog can dim the fiery flame that smoldered within the twin sapphire orbs. They glowed, drawing him in, ensnaring him, drowning him. A name floated across his mind but he was not quick enough to grasp it. He drew his breath in sharply when he felt a sudden stab of pain in his heart._

 _He looked down and saw an ancient sword sticking out from his chest, the stranger's hand slowly but surely pushing the blade in. Panicked, he clawed at the hilt, hand wrapping around hers. He tried to pull the sword out and every time he gained an inch, the fog intensified, the ghostly shadows howling in despair. He felt her hand tightening around the handle and she pushed. Slow. Deliberate. He watched in horror as the sword was finally buried in his chest, up to the hilt._

 _He lifted his startled gaze, locking into those captivating blue eyes again and despite the blurry face, he could have sworn… that_ _ **she**_ _was smiling._

He bolted upright in bed, panting, a thin sheen of sweat covering his face and bare torso.

"The dream again, sir?" His trusted manservant asked.

He nodded curtly, rubbing his chest, still feeling the blade sliding slowly into his heart. The nightmare had felt so real that he was surprised his hand did not come off stained with his blood.

* * *

He passed under the arch of the entryway of The Elysium, blind to the graceful opulence of the classical Greco-Roman themed décor. An exceptionally fine replica of Boticelli's painting, 'The Birth of Venus,' greeted him at the anteroom. The thick ivory colored carpet that stretched throughout the column-lined room was streaked in gray and black to give the impression that the floor was made of marble tiles. The wall art featured rich tapestries depicting scenes of frolicking nymphs and wall plaques molded to resemble relief sculptures of Bacchus, Aphrodite, Priapus, Daphne and the other Greek and Roman deities that the establishment patronized. The leather-upholstered furniture were strategically arranged between columns allowing its occupants a small measure of privacy. But despite its rather expensive and tasteful interior, the entire place reeked of hedonism and debauchery.

He made his way through the cloud of smoke from tobacco and opium, lips twisting with mild distaste. He nodded to his acquaintances as he passed them by. A premier duke of the realm greeted him with an intoxicated salute then rolled his eyes in rapture as a woman dressed as a Naiad dipped her head between his legs. A visiting French aristocrat grinned at him while leading a young woman who wore nothing but a corset and handcuffs up the staircase, undoubtedly into one of the rooms upstairs. If rumor was to be believed, the marquis was on the run for poisoning two prostitutes in Marseilles with the supposed aphrodisiac Spanish fly. He suppressed a shudder of disgust when he thought about the man's reputed appetite for torture. He barely noticed an earl, who also happened to be a business associate of his, since the nobleman's face was half buried in the full bosom of Venus while Dionysus was melting a spoon of sugar to dunk into the earl's shot of absinthe.

Only the elite of the elite were allowed entry into The Elysium. It was one of the very few establishments who catered to the men of high society actively pursuing the more 'scandalous' pleasures in life. It was so exclusive that one did not apply for membership but rather one was _invited_ to join. And the recipient of such invitation would have to be insane not to accept for The Elysium was a hellfire club of stringent standards. Being a part of the upper crust of society alone did not ensure admission, one had to have the backing of at least five other members to get the coveted invitation. The men belonging to the club had several things in common: money, power, titles… and the reputation of being Europe's biggest libertines.

Blake Anthony McCain had all of the qualifications save one.

As far as he could remember, he had always been searching for a purpose in life. His father had taught him to read and write. As a child, endowed with the sharpest of minds, he would pore through volumes of books absorbing all the knowledge and information available to him. His intellect was so uncanny that he could read thick tomes in mere hours while it would take another weeks to finish. Complicated mathematical equations were easily calculated in his head in the time that it took a regular person to find pen and paper for writing down the formulas. By the time he was twelve, he had read through textbooks for higher learning, leaving his parents awed. His logic was impeccable, able to deconstruct problems and find solutions in a blink of an eye. And yet, his quest for life's meaning remained unfulfilled.

At age sixteen, he had decided that his life goal was to lift his family out of the genteel poverty that they had been living in thus far. Despite his mother's initial protest, he embarked on a ship to India, intent on making a fortune, believing that this was the one thing that was missing in his life. He knew that being a deckhand and a merchant's clerk was not the easiest of jobs but no amount of studying had prepared him for harsh reality. The life he chose was fraught with danger and the money was not as lucrative. But his keen mind dictated that he survive for it was a means to an end.

He pursued his dream with frightening single-mindedness. An opportunity presented itself when he realized that his mental prowess served him well in all manner of gaming. Cards were his forte. And although he never resorted to outright cheating, the ability to calculate odds and probabilities had many a times gotten him into trouble as sore losers cried foul play. When he could, he avoided fighting duels but there were times when it could not be helped. He had scrimped and saved his winnings and by the time that he turned twenty, he had amassed a small fortune that he daringly gambled in a card game against a merchant who traded silk and spices. His genius, and perhaps with a little help from Lady Luck, changed his life. He had walked out of the gaming hall owning a fleet of four ships.

He immediately returned to his home, eager to share his fortune, stories of adventure and future plans with his family... only to find that his father, mother and twin sisters had died in an accidental fire a week prior to his arrival. The vicar gently broke the news of his family's death. Much to the vicar's surprise, Blake did not shed a single tear nor did he rage as was expected from one who was bereaved. He had gone stiff, bracing against the grief, somehow rejecting the loss, full with the knowledge that it could destroy him. The display of tightly reined sorrow left the vicar unsettled, not quite understanding how Blake's cool and calm logic could easily suppress his emotions whenever he wished.

A week later, a messenger from England arrived bearing a letter from the Earl of Waynchilsea. Blake was stunned to find out that his father, Theodore, had been keeping a secret from him. He learned that his real surname should have been Wainwright – and that his father had been the heir to an earldom. The current earl, his grandfather, had disowned Theodore when he fell in love with Blake's mother, Moira, who had served as a maid in one of the earl's estates. Theodore had insisted on marrying Moira when he found out that he had impregnated her. A nobleman marrying a commoner was totally unheard of. That she was half Scot, half Irish made her even more undesirable in the eyes of the nobly born. Stubbornly, Theodore stood by Moira and forsook his inheritance. The couple eloped to Scotland to get married and Theodore took up Moira's maiden name in a bid for anonymity. They raised their little family in a happy and loving home, albeit a poor one, in the hamlet of Ardeonaig in Stirling.

In the letter, the earl had stated that it was his wish to heal the family rift and he wanted to start by naming Blake as his legitimate heir. Blake had felt a sudden contempt for the grandfather he never knew. He tore up the letter, flagrantly spurning his grandfather's olive branch offering. The earl had sent him similar letters over the years but all met the same fate in Blake's hands. It, however, gave him a new sense of purpose. Armed with his genius and audacity, he multiplied his fortune and holdings without difficulty. Power came naturally with the money and they brought with them the lifestyle of a debauched libertine. He flaunted all three to prove to his grandfather that he did not need a title to raise his station in life. High society, collectively known as the _ton_ , readily granted him entrance into their drawing rooms. Rumors about his ancestry were whispered around, of course. And it did not help that his dark hair, blue eyes and chiseled features gave him a striking resemblance to his father. Moreover, Blake was fairly certain that his grandfather had likely started the rumors in the first place in order to pressure him into accepting his offer.

Having no formal title was largely a boon because the matchmaking mamas of the _ton_ made landing a titled husband for their daughters a holy crusade. Had he accepted the title of Viscount Gottam, heir to the Earl of Waynchilsea, he would have been considered an excellent matrimonial prize. Vapid, virginal daughters would have been thrown his way – something that he neither had the desire nor the patience for. He did, however, have dalliances with women of 'the fast set' who he easily discarded when he lost interest. Rumors of his amorous affairs and the string of broken hearts he left behind set fire to the wagging tongues of the _ton_ and in no time at all, he was dubbed 'Blake the Rake.'

For most part, the pursuit of power and pleasure gave him a direction for his otherwise empty existence. And at first, it was enough to keep him distracted. He was rich. He was sought after. He had proven himself to his grandfather. But his lifelong thirst for meaning remained unquenched. And no matter what he did, the desire for something more grew. Worse, he could not find the reason for the gaping void in his life. He felt as lost in the waking world as he was in his recurring nightmare. At thirty, he had become a hard, world-weary cynic unable to see the beautiful things that life had to offer.

He quickened his pace, wanting to get this meeting over and done with. He would much rather spend the rest of his night gaming at White's, yet another exclusive gentleman's club but with a less raffish reputation. The manager of The Elysium himself was waiting for him at the very last room in the back.

"Good evening, Mr. McCain," the man murmured, giving him a deep bow and an eager, pandering smile.

Blake inclined his head in impatient acknowledgment as he entered the dimly lit room.

"Ah, there you are, dear boy," a figure of a man rose from a high-backed chair. He was quite handsome, tall with a high forehead, clear open features and large blue eyes with a full and slightly wide mouth. Blake was certain that instead of wearing a short periwig with a small pigtail, the man had bizarrely decided to have his own hair bleached white and styled in the current fashion. He was clad in a fine gold-braided tail jacket and white britches. With an imperious wave of his hand, he commanded the two women with him to leave the room.

"Your Majesty," Blake bowed, hiding his wry smile at how the king addressed him as someone infinitely younger when the monarch was only four years older than him.

"Come, now," King George III scoffed. "Let us dispense with the formalities. Or would you like me to address you as 'my lord' as is your right?"

"Certainly not, George," Blake averred drolly. That he was on familiar terms with the king of England himself was a testament to how far he had climbed up the social ladder even without his grandfather's titles. "What brings us together tonight? And The Elysium of all places?"

The king motioned for him to sit down. Blake obliged and watched him walk over to the table by the fireplace, unstoppering the decanter of brandy and pouring its contents into two glasses. He quirked an eyebrow when the king handed him one.

Blake murmured his thanks as he accepted the glass. _Somebody needs a favor it seems_ , he thought.

"As you know," George sat down on the chair across him. "I am a man of science. I believe you attended the inauguration of my astronomical observatory?"

"I believe I did," Blake replied blandly. He took a sip of his drink, observing the monarch from the brim of his glass, trying to reason out what the man wanted from him.

"Do you believe that there are intelligent life forms out there, Blake?"

Blake frowned. _Where is he going with this?_ "The universe is a vast place, Sire. It will be the height of arrogance to think that humans are the only ones capable of intelligent thought," he said aloud.

"Precisely," George smiled in satisfaction. "We are pleased that you agree."

His eyes narrowed warily at the use of the royal plural. Rulers often used it to assert the 'divine right of kings,' implying that they are subject to no earthly authority, deriving the right to rule directly from the will of God, that he acted conjointly with the deity. It usually came before a royal edict. And having King George insinuate that 'God and I' were pleased that Blake agreed gave him a slight sense of uneasiness. After all, there were whispers that the king's eccentricity stemmed from insanity.

"And would you also agree," the king continued, watching his face closely. "That perhaps some of them might already call our planet their home?"

Blake kept his features neutral and met the king's intense gaze unflinchingly. "I have to admit I have not given the idea much thought."

"Then, perhaps it is time that you do."

Blake cocked a questioning eyebrow.

"We want you to investigate this phenomenon further… circumspectly, of course," the king explained. "We are convinced that these… creatures… are plotting rather nefarious schemes against the Crown."

"Me? Acting as your covert agent?" Blake gave the king a look of sham astonishment. He leaned back on his chair and placed an ankle over his knee, the perfect picture of an indolent gentleman. "Surely, Sire, you have more qualified personnel than I at your disposal."

The king threw his head back and shouted with laughter. "I salute you for having convinced the entire populace that you are nothing more than a profligate libertine but _we_ see past your ruse, Blake the Rake."

* * *

 _ **Themyscira**_

"Lesson number one," Diana said gravely, walking forward in a stalking stride. She stopped a few inches from a crouching, panting young girl. She planted her feet, legs spread, and hands on hips in an intimidating stance. "Never – "

" – Hold yourself back. I know, I know," the dark-haired girl finished in a singsong voice.

Diana frowned in consternation. "You really should take your training more seriously, Donna."

"Oh, but I do, sister. I enjoy it so much that I actually look forward to losing to you." With an impish grin, she stood up and brushed herself off. "Shall we go for a swim?"

"We are not done here yet," Diana shook her head at the impulsive teenager.

Donna grabbed her sister's wrist and started dragging her toward the trail that led to their favorite waterfall. "Yes, we are. You beat me. I surrender. That's it."

"Amazons do not surrender," Diana stated, almost by rote. "We –"

"This Amazon just did," Donna interrupted gaily. "Come _on_ , Di."

Diana bit back a fond smile and despite her more superior strength, she allowed her younger sister to pull her all the way to the small and secluded pool where they usually took baths. Days were never boring when the young Amazon was around. Donna had been a blessing, in more ways than one.

A little over a decade and a half ago, the gods had sent Hippolyta herself out on a mission. Most believed that the queen had gone to Patriarch's World but only a handful knew that Hippolyta had, in fact, been sent to _another_ world – one of the many worlds that mirrored, to some point or another, their plane of existence. In her mother's absence, Diana had been appointed Princess Regent. It was then when she had her first taste of what it was like to be the ruler of a nation. Two years later, Hippolyta came back, her belly swollen with child.

It had not been an easy pregnancy. Something had gone horribly wrong during the delivery. The babe had been stillborn. But with the aid of Themyscira's magical clay, the very same clay used to heal Diana's near fatal injuries centuries ago, Epione breathed life into the infant. Having a baby to mind brought a refreshing break from Diana's usual rigid and rigorous daily routine. She had helped her mother take care of Donna and when the time came for Donna to begin her Amazon training, Diana had become one of her mentors not only in matters of combat but in academics as well.

As blood sisters, they bore a striking physical resemblance to each other. But where Diana's eyes were serious and intense, Donna's glinted with a mischievousness that could be quite exasperating. She had the tendency to play pranks on her trainers and the promise of severe punishment only served as a temporary deterrent. As Amazons, they shared the same fierce tenacity and unwavering courage that marked their tribe. But where Diana exuded the strength of character acquired from centuries of bearing hardships, heartbreak and obligation, Donna had the insurmountable optimism of one who was untouched by the sorrow and corruption of the outside world. And being the 'spare heir,' the younger princess could afford to be more easy-going and lighthearted since she did not have to carry the burden of being next in line to the throne. Regardless, Donna took to her studies with an enthusiasm that Diana admired. The child had the natural athleticism and intellect that showed much promise.

"Philippus will not be amused if she finds out you've been lagging behind in your training," Diana warned.

"Philippus," Donna snorted, sticking out her tongue. "The woman simply does not have a sense of humor, Di. I do not know who's worse, her or Artemis."

Diana could not help but chuckle at Donna's youthful impertinence. _Ah, to be young and carefree again_ … she thought wistfully. Her smile faltered a little. The face that she held locked deep in her heart floated in front of her mind's eye. In most days, she was able to keep the face in the periphery of her consciousness, holding her heartache at bay. But every night, when she slept, when she did not have full control of her thoughts, the same face haunted her dreams without fail. Some were happy dreams. Some were horrible nightmares. Recently, her dreams had become more vivid, more… urgent. In these dreams, she was back in the Schwarzwald. He was looking for her and although she was right in front of him, it seemed that he could not see her through the thick mist that blanketed the godforsaken forest.

 _Don't_ , she reminded herself sternly. _Don't think about him. Just. Don't._

Too late… the face that brought her so much joy, and so much sorrow at the same time, solidified in her memory. For the better part of two centuries, Diana had struggled with the darkness that resulted from her brief yet life-shattering encounter with Bryce. At first, she had tried to convince herself that perhaps it was better that things turned out the way they did because their relationship was doomed to fail anyway. Nevertheless, Diana had kept his sword by her bedside, running her hand lovingly over the ancient blade, crying herself to sleep.

Over time, grief gave way to anger. Her tortured conscience and broken heart ceaselessly besieged her, always blaming herself for what happened. _You should have been faster, stronger and protected him better... If you only told him who you were, he would not have recklessly sought revenge... You could have gone back for him..._ _Should have… would have… could have…_ She cursed her immortality, raging at the cruelty of having to live forever with the pain of loss. Diana had even resorted to bargaining. Every night before she slept, she prayed fervently to Aphrodite to give her another chance to make things right by Bryce. She would light a candle to the Fates, irrationally begging them to turn back time. Her prayers remained unheard until finally, after over a hundred years, she sunk into hopelessness, unwillingly accepting that Bryce would have passed on after all this time and that she would never be given the chance to make amends to him. The Amazon in her was appalled at how pathetic and erratic she had become. _He's just a man_ , she told herself harshly. _There has to be more to life than pining over a mortal_.

She then decided to pour all her grief and torment into her training. She had even gone on missions for the gods, usually of the magical sort. Once, she and Artemis had been sent on an assignment to the Underworld to retrieve a nymph's enchanted necklace that was stolen by a demon. Diana had been so cold and calculating in slaying a legion of fiends that even the usually aggressive Artemis commented on how Diana was becoming a little bit too brutal, a little bit too ruthless. Alexa was no less worried even if she was privy to why Diana was disillusioned with her life. Philippus, sensing that there was something more to the princess' change in behavior than met the eye, decided that it was time for her to intensify her training with Pythia, the Amazons' spiritual mentor.

' _You are conflicted because you have forgotten who you are,' Pythia had told her.  
_ ' _The problem is precisely because I have not," Diana had replied bitterly.  
_ ' _Really, now…' the mystic had given her a look that clearly said Diana did not know anything at all. 'Tell me, then. Who are you?'  
_ ' _I am Diana of Themyscira, Princess of the Amazons.'  
_ ' _You are, aren't you? But who_ _ **are**_ _you?' The woman's condescending smile and redundant question had infuriated Diana._

For nearly a decade, Pythia led Diana through a series of spirit quests aimed to help her rediscover herself and figure out how to deal with the demons within. It had been an arduously painful journey. She saw what was… what is… what might have been… and what could be. She saw the world… and several other worlds. Every time she awakened from her trance, she had felt more confused than when she went under. And each time, Pythia had asked her the same question.

' _Who are you?'_

The answer had eluded Diana… until the birth of Donna. When she held her tiny little sister in her arms, she had felt an instant bond. After centuries of despair, she had felt a tiny spark of hope ignite within her bosom. As Donna grew under Diana's tutelage, so did her feeling of hope. Donna, in her innocence and optimism, had reminded Diana that despite the seemingly star-crossed paths, she should be thankful that, even for the shortest time, she had been with the one person who completed her. The scar of losing the one she loved did not fade and it still ached from time to time. Diana knew that the pain will always be a part of her but slowly, she learned how to smile again.

A loud splash and the spray of water on her face brought her back to the present.

"Well?" Donna brushed back her wet hair and looked up at her expectantly.

Diana blinked still a bit disoriented from her reverie. "Well what?"

"Haven't you been listening?" Donna pouted, floating on her back. "When will I get powers like yours?"

"You need to be patient, Donna," her lips twisted with irony. _Me, giving advice about patience_ , she thought with a small shake of her head. She kicked off her sandals and shimmied out of her tunic. She dove in, joining Donna in the cool, refreshing water. "These things take time," she said when she came up for air.

"Tell me again why."

Diana unconsciously took on a lecturing tone. "We Amazons derive our strength, stamina and even our immortality from our mystical link to the Earth itself."

"Granted to us by Demeter," Donna said, proudly recalling what she read in the archives.

"Very good," Diana nodded approvingly. "And just like an infant must first learn how to crawl before she can learn how to run, we need to grow into our powers. The older we get, the better we become in controlling our gifts – because the only thing that can surpass super strength is the power of the mind. You must learn how to control it so as not to injure those who are weaker than you. And one day, your training will allow you to use pure mental energy to augment what was already given to you."

"But you, sister, have been set above all others," Donna smiled, playfully splashing Diana with water. "The gods and goddesses of Olympus have seen it fit to endow you with abilities that can potentially equal their own. 'Beautiful as Aphrodite, wise as Athena, swifter than Hermes, and stronger than Hercules,'" Donna quoted. "Is it because you are the heir to the throne?"

"Perhaps," Diana laughed mirthlessly. "But I am not quite near the level of the gods just yet. Although, Mother has told me that if I truly believe that I can do it, anything is possible."

"Di?" Donna looked at her hesitantly.

"Hmm?" Diana tilted her head to the side, feeling Donna's sudden unease. "What bothers you, Don?"

"Promise you won't get angry?"

Diana rolled her eyes. "What have you done now?"

"It's nothing like that…" Donna shook her head, looking away.

Diana waited silently knowing that the younger Amazon was more likely to share her thoughts if she was not forced.

"I… I have been having strange dreams lately," Donna began. "I'm pretty sure that it's… it's about a… a _man_."

Diana's eyebrows shot to her hairline.

"Silly, I know," Donna continued. She turned her troubled eyes to Diana. "I couldn't see his face clearly but in my dream, he was in a dark forest. And he was…"

Diana's heartbeat thundered in her ears. "He was what?" she whispered.

"He was looking for you."

* * *

Diana walked into her dark room, confused. Donna's revelation had shaken her to the core.

 _Coincidence?_ She thought. _I know Donna and I share a bond but is it that strong that I could somehow project my own dreams into hers? Or is there some other reason why she would dream the same dream?_

Despite her preoccupation, Diana sensed a presence in her room. She immediately took on a defensive stance.

"I know you're there," she warned in a hard voice. "Show yourself."

A musical giggle greeted her. "I'm a lover not a fighter, Princess."

An orb of light suddenly began to glow in the middle of the room. It pulsed and grew until it took the form of a beautiful, voluptuous, golden-haired woman. She wore a pale pink one-shouldered _peplos_ made from the sheerest of materials. The soft, flimsy, billowing dress left nothing to the imagination. She gave Diana a dazzling smile.

"Apologies, my lady. I did not realize it was you," Diana promptly bowed in deference. "How may I serve the Goddess of Love?"

Aphrodite walked toward her. The goddess reached out and placed two fingers under Diana's chin forcing her to meet her probing eyes.

"Hmm, still in so much pain…" Aphrodite observed.

Diana kept her features perfectly composed. "Surely, my lady did not come down from Olympus to attend to such a… trivial matter."

"You wound me, Diana," the goddess' pretty pout belied a silent reprimand. "The welfare of my Champion will _always_ be important to me."

 _Where were you when I desperately prayed for your help?_ The rebellious thought crossed Diana's mind, an unbidden echo of a distant memory. _'The gods have always been petty. They take pleasure in meddling with our lives only when it pleases them. But where are they now? Now when we need them the most?'_

Aphrodite chuckled as if she heard her thoughts. "But you are right," she acceded. She turned around and took a seat on the divan at the foot of Diana's bed. "I have a more pressing concern that needs your immediate attention."

"I stand ready, my lady."

"My ever recalcitrant daughter, Eris, has escaped from her prison in Tartarus. And, as you know, she does have the uncontrollable urge to sow chaos in the world," a melodramatic sigh escaped the goddess' luscious lips. "Why she had to take after her father instead of me, I will never understand."

"Bring her back, Diana."

"Consider it done, my lady." Diana made her way to her armorium, a simple wooden chest where she kept her weapons and armor.

"And, oh," Aphrodite said nonchalantly. "Diana?"

Diana threw a questioning look over her shoulder.

Aphrodite stood up and pulled something out from her back. "I took the liberty of having Hephaestus reforge your favorite sword."


	6. Chapter 6

_"Sometimes, the worst battle you have to fight is between what you know and how you feel."_

* * *

CHAPTER 4

The buzz of excited conversation and waves of laughter in the overcrowded ballroom nearly drowned out the orchestra. The ballroom was decorated to look like a medieval forest, the chandeliers cleverly disguised as stars. The dance floor, a 'glade,' was jammed with lavishly costumed guests who danced to music they could hardly hear. A small smile tugged at the corners of Diana's lips as she stood by the sidelines, observing the grandness around her.

Diana had followed Eris' trail across Europe. Wherever the goddess passed, she did what she did best, sowing jealousy and envy, leaving behind enmity and anger among men. Her hunt led her all the way to England. The rift brewing between the small yet powerful island nation and her colonies in America was indicative of the Goddess of Discord's handiwork. Logic made Diana conclude that in order for Eris to steer the flow of events, she had to be manipulating a person of influence, likely an aristocrat, someone high enough in the ranks to compel the current ruler. But knowing Eris' modus, Diana was certain that it would also have to be someone low-key enough so as not to raise any suspicions. She did not know who the unfortunate noble was – yet. Eris' trail had led Diana to a masquerade ball hosted by a certain Duke of Kent.

Diana tried to remain inconspicuous and was quite indifferent to the looks she was getting – admiring from the men, envious from the women. She was wearing her simple white _peplos_ , which left her toned and tanned arms enticingly bare save for the silver bracers that she wore. The folds of the traditional Grecian dress clung provocatively to her full breasts and narrow waist before falling elegantly to the floor. Unlike the intricately coifed women, she left her hair unbound; the thick, shiny, jet-black strands flowing gracefully down her shoulders and back. She was wearing her golden tiara; her lasso and scabbarded sword hung by her side.

A visored knight in shining armor approached her. By his wobbly gait, Diana knew that he had imbibed one champagne too many. "You look positively ravishing tonight, my lady Venus," his helm failed to hide his appreciative leer.

Diana adjusted her white domino mask trimmed in silver and gold. "I am an Amazon princess," she corrected. The corners of her lips twitched, amused that she was actually masquerading as herself.

"Forgive my ignorance, my lady," the knight grinned wider. "Will you allow me to make it up to you with a dance?"

"Very well," Diana answered, after a brief moment of hesitation. She placed her hand on the knight's outstretched arm and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor. _There is no harm in having a little bit of fun, I suppose_.

"You dance beautifully, my lady Amazon," the knight complimented her, drawing her closer than was seemly.

"As do you, Sir Knight," Diana replied lightly. She stiffened up her spine subtly, exerting just enough resistance to keep her overeager dance partner easily at arm's length. He frowned slightly in confusion when try as he might, he could not seem to budge her closer.

Diana successfully smothered a laugh and allowed herself to be whirled around in time to the sweeping music. Her eyes roved the glittering ballroom, continuing to admire the magnificence of the ball and at the same time, looking around for any clue that might help her identify who Eris was. The costumes made the task difficult to be sure but she persevered knowing that sooner or later, she will find her mark.

Her breath caught when her eyes fell upon a man leaning against the ballroom's gilded doorframe. His mysterious good looks were enhanced by his simple costume – attired entirely in black without a jot of adornment save for his equally black cape and half mask. Somehow, he managed to blend into the background and yet, at the same time, he stood out amid the colorfully costumed people around him. He was staring at her slack-jawed, his champagne glass arrested halfway to his parted lips. His vivid blue eyes smoldered as his bold gaze swept from the top of her shiny black hair right down to her sandaled toes then it lifted abruptly back to her face.

 _Bryce_ … A jolt of instant recognition coursed through Diana. He loomed like a giant bat – piercing eyes alert, not missing a single detail; his sinewy body seemingly poised to spring at the slightest whisper of a threat. Even from across the room, he oozed power – and something else. Danger? Arrogance? Confidence?... Anger. He exuded anger.

Her body began to tremble with a mixture of shock, desire and trepidation but through sheer force of will, her mind remained in control. Diana jerked her gaze back to her dance partner struggling to keep her expression neutral. The knight inhaled sharply when he saw the fiery passion in her eyes, which he mistook as directed at him.

"My lady…" his pupils dilated with the anticipation of something more. "Perhaps we should seek a more private – "

"Forgive me," Diana interrupted, barely hearing her own voice over the din around her and the thudding of her heart. "I… it seems… I… I need to go." Without bothering to explain, Diana pulled out of her partner's arms and left him in the middle of the dance floor with a flabbergasted expression on his face.

As quickly as she could, Diana made her way to the withdrawing room, hoping to have a minute alone. Unfortunately, it was already filled with the incessant chatter of women enjoying the ball. She looked around and found the doors to the terrace. With a silent sigh of relief, she walked out into the brisk evening London air that helped cool down her overheated skin.

Moonlight spilled down the terrace steps and she wandered forward through the expansive beds of rose bushes and into the manicured torch-lit hedge labyrinth. Passing underneath a concealing archway of vines, she walked aimlessly, the noise from the party slowly began to die away, except for the soft, distant strains of music. Finally, she found herself in a gazebo at the very heart of the maze. She placed her forehead against a pillar and tried to calm herself down.

She stood there for what seemed like eternity, fighting against the deluge of emotions buffeting her all at once, crashing through the last vestiges of the wall that she had built over the centuries. Joy at finding out that he was not totally lost to her… Guilt over what happened the previous lifetime… Relief that perhaps she now had the chance to make amends… Excitement over what could happen next… Confusion on how to begin… Sorrow… Pain… And dread of the possibility of losing him again. But above all – hope. Hope, that maybe this time, things would be different.

* * *

Working as the king's spy was a pain in the nether region. That the harebrained case involved identifying extraterrestrials supposedly plotting against the Crown threatened to give Blake a pounding migraine.

He tipped his champagne flute and took a lengthy swallow. It did not help. He lounged against the intricately carved doorframe and glanced about the grand ballroom, blind to its beauty. The light from a multitude of candles bounced off the crystal chandeliers and the framed mirrors strategically placed around the room. But Blake cared little. The colorfully costumed merrymakers were but a blur to him.

He rarely frequented social events such as this. Everything about frippery that surrounded him left him cold and bitter. Had the king not insisted to the point of almost issuing a command with a veiled threat of dire consequences if he did not heed, Blake would most definitely not be here. He felt the absolute fool snooping around to determine who was an alien scheming to bring ruin to the king's reign. It was a small consolation that the Duke of Kent, along with his duchess, was one of the few nobles who he considered as his friends. Narrowing his eyes, he lifted his glass to his lips.

From out of nowhere, a court jester with badly smeared rouge staggered from the ballroom and plowed into him. He reeked of strong spirits. Blake choked on the wine trickling down his throat. "Bloody. Hell. Man!" he said between strangled coughs.

"Scuse me, m'lord. Dun feel well. Too hot in here." The inebriated noble weaved his way through the doorway, careening and jostling into guests unfortunate enough to be in his path. After a few more steps, he spewed up everything he had ever ingested on the glossy marble floor. Gentlemen raised their voices in protest and ladies yanked their skirts aside squawking in outrage and disgust.

Swallowing against the stinging in his throat, Blake beckoned to a liveried servant. "Help that chap, please."'

Blake grimaced. The ballroom was indeed a trifle too warm; the crush of guests was a hair's breadth away from being intolerable. He inhaled, nose twitching with distaste at the stench of sweat overlaid with copious amounts of cloying perfume. No doubt the ball would be lauded by the _haute ton_ as a success despite the messy mishap courtesy of the drunken clown.

 _Lord, how I despise these garish affairs_ , he thought. The pretentiousness. The artificial smiles. The gossip. The social climbing. Every bit added to the bad taste in his mouth. Turning, he rested his shoulder against the wall, his bored, disdainful gaze sweeping the room once more. He lifted his glass to his lips once again. Had he taken a swig, he would have choked on his drink the second time that night.

It was his dream come to life. He could almost feel the sharp and fierce pain as the blade slid between his ribs, piercing his heart, hitching the air in his lungs. He exhaled – a slow and deliberate breath.

It was _her_.

He watched her pull away from her dance partner's enthusiastic clutches. _She will lead you to what you are looking for_ , a small voice in his head spoke up, prompting him to take an involuntary step forward. But before he could go any farther, he felt something poke his shoulder.

"Blake?"

 _Don't let her get away!_ A sense of urgency wrapped around him as the raven-haired woman wove her way through the dancers.

"Blake? Is that you?" A second more demanding prod against his shoulder forced him to turn around. Blake did not bother to hide his dismay.

"Hah! It _is_ you," a colorful peacock smiled up at him. "I heard talk that you were here. I didn't believe it at first. I must say, dear boy, while you look positively handsome, this costume of yours is not very creative, is it? What are you supposed to be?"

"Lady Monington," Blake tried not to snap. He looked over his shoulder and saw his target trying to squeeze past Robin Hood flirting with a blonde canary. "If you'll excuse me, I need to…"

 _She will lead you to your end_ … The wary and practical side of him yelled a warning, reminding him of how his dream usually ended.

"Come now!" the noblewoman's eyes were full of shocked affront. "I am aware that you refuse to acknowledge your ancestry but surely we can at least observe some of the civilities?"

Barely reaching his shoulder, Lady Leanne Thompkins was a formidable dowager in her own right. Blake suppressed an impatient sigh as he bowed over his paternal great aunt's outstretched hand. "Aunt Lee, you know I always delight in your company."

"Phaw!" his aunt poked him with her peacock-feather fan yet again. Blake gritted his teeth. He was sorely tempted to snatch the godforsaken fan from her hand, snap it in half and toss it behind the greenery. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were avoiding me. Whatever are you doing here?"

He arched a brow at her and remained silent.

"None of my business, eh?" Lady Leanne inclined her silver-streaked head and gave a small defeated sigh. His aunt regarded him with sad eyes. "Very well. But dear, always know that should you ever…"

Blake felt himself soften. Slightly. He reminded himself that his aunt meant well and had nothing to do with what had happened between his parents and grandfather. The dowager truly did try her best to make up for the past even if she did not have to. He gave her a small smile. "I'm perfectly fine, Aunt Lee. Should I be otherwise, be secure in the fact that you will be one of the first people to know."

"Thank you, dear boy," his aunt beamed at him.

"I would stay and chat," As if compelled by an unseen force, Blake looked over his shoulder again in time to see her duck into one of the withdrawing rooms. "But I really must attend to a rather pressing situation."

With a hasty bow, he left his aunt and hurried after the woman of his dreams.

* * *

He saw her standing with her forehead against the pillar. She was so still that Blake would have been forgiven for thinking that she was a statue of an angel. A forlorn angel.

As he stood watching her, something foreign stirred deep within his chest. It was an irresistible feeling, almost like a memory, rousing from what seemed like a lifetime of dormancy and slowly flickering into his awareness.

 _Good God_ , Blake stiffened, startled by his train of thought. _When did I ever indulge in sentimental claptrap?_

Squaring his shoulders, Blake moved forward, determined to solve the tantalizing mystery in front of him.

"Dance with me, Princess."

Diana whirled around in surprise. The achingly familiar timbre of his voice vibrated through her. "I… I beg your pardon?" Diana's heartbeat was pounding relentlessly against her ribs.

Blake gestured at her attire. "You are an Amazon princess, are you not?"

Diana nodded mutely.

"Dance with me," Blake held out his hand, his hypnotic gaze compelling her, challenging her to take the step forward.

The starlit night took on a dreamlike quality as Diana walked without hesitation into his arms, eyes unblinkingly locked on to his. She felt his left arm slide around her waist, drawing her close to the solid strength of his body, his right hand engulfing her fingers in a firm, warm grasp. And then very gently, he whirled her around in time to the faint lilting notes of the music that floated softly around them.

Blake stared at the woman in his arms. His highly sensitized fingers could feel her soft yet firm skin underneath the thin material of her dress instead of the blasted contraption that ladies normally insisted on wearing. _Damnation, she's not wearing a corset_ … Blood rushed to his loins.

He gave himself a mental shake and realized that she had spoken.

"I beg your pardon, my lady," Blake said smoothly. He tried to compensate for his blunder in the only way he knew how – he turned on his charm. He regarded her with a brilliant smile designed to melt, to seduce, to turn a woman's legs into quivering jelly. "Your beauty is so mesmerizing that I did not hear your question."

"Mesmerizing?" Diana smirked, knowing his flattery for what it was. "Really?"

"Truly, you are aware that you put to shame the stars that shine down upon us," his brow creased a little when his compliment did not get the reaction he expected. Normally, women of the _ton_ would start simpering, blushing and fanning themselves. They certainly did not smirk.

Diana threw her head back laughing. Blake's pupils dilated when the artlessly innocent move exposed more of her neck. He could not help but imagine himself leaving a trail of kisses from her neck all the way down to her ample cleavage… and possibly even lower. He wanted to capture her mouth with his, smothering her throaty laugh and turn it into a lusty moan. He ignored good sense and tightened his arm around her waist, drawing her lush form closer. He inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring at her intoxicating perfume. Somehow, he recognized her scent.

"Do you talk like that to all the women?" Diana finally sobered up but her eyes continued to sparkle with amusement, seemingly oblivious to his physical reaction.

There was a smile in his voice as he answered. "Maybe."

"And do they actually fall for it?"

"Usually," Blake grinned impenitently. "You asked me a question, my lady?"

Diana nodded. "How did you know I was an Amazon Princess? Everybody who approached me tonight thought I was Venus."

"All it takes is careful observation," Blake answered matter-of-factly. "The simplicity of your garb is more telling of Greek roots than the more elaborate Roman robes. People should have 'properly' mistaken you as Aphrodite not Venus."

"And then we have your accessories to consider," Blake continued. "You carry a sword. One might be excused if one mistook you for Athena. _But_ ," he paused for effect. "The Goddess of War and Wisdom is usually depicted with a sword _and_ shield. Not a lasso – a tool of more use to a tribe purported to be legendary equestriennes. Further, according to mythology, the Amazons wore bracers not just as armor but also as a reminder to never be enslaved by man ever again."

Diana gave him an impressed look.

"The tiara obviously signifies that you are royalty – and since you are not wearing the golden girdle of the queen, I reckon that you are a princess. Although, I don't think that there is enough in the literature regarding the design of an Amazon tiara so I am not entirely certain if yours is an accurate representation."

"Trust me, it is so accurate that it might as well be the real thing," Diana smiled at how close he was to the actual truth. "It is rare to meet a person who has not forgotten the stories of bygone eras."

"As it is rare to meet a woman who would rather be a warrior than a goddess," Blake replied, looking at her intently, feeling slightly disconcerted to be in the presence of a woman who was candid and obviously intelligent. For the first time in his jaded life, he did not know how to handle a woman. "Rarer still to meet one who is learned enough to know the difference, my lady."

"I've had… years… to read and study," Diana met his gaze levelly. "And please… My name is Diana."

"Goddess of the Hunt," Blake murmured, surprised that she would divulge her name at an occasion where people normally used their temporary anonymity to do whatever they pleased. _What is she hunting for?_ The nagging voice in his head injected. "My name is Blake… Diana."

Diana's breath caught at the look of frank admiration in the eyes of the man who occupied too many of her thoughts for millennia. She could see that not much has changed over the passing of time. At first glance, he looked every inch like the urbane, elegant gentleman: his coal-black jacket and trousers set off his broad shoulders and emphasized his long muscular legs to perfection; dark hair perfectly groomed foregoing the ridiculous white wig that seemed to be in fashion. But his mask failed to hide the unyielding arrogance of kings stamped onto his features and in his eyes sparked the spirit of the fighter within. Even as he gracefully led her in their private waltz, his tall body gave off the strength and power of a warrior born.

Blake studied her closely. Her eyes held the perfect combination of trust and innocent curiosity. But behind the guilelessness, he saw something more… something that he could not quite identify. It whispered of something ancient… ageless. With their gazes fused, a peculiar jolt stabbed the center of his being.

 _What was it?_ He mused. And almost immediately the stern voice of cold logic scolded him. _Man, control yourself. She's not even flirting with you._

 _I would have to guard myself well_ , Blake decided. He sensed Diana's effortless allure; the tentacles of desire winding their way around his rational mind, holding him in an imperceptible yet unbreakable grasp. He was having difficulty concentrating, too aware of the voluptuous woman in his arms, their bodies moving as one to the music. If Blake did not know better, he could have sworn that she'd cast a spell, bewitching him.

The beauty of the starry night and the faint music slowly melted away as they danced and stared into each other's eyes. To Diana, the joy of being held in his arms again after such a long time overpowered the past sorrow of losing him and her present instinct that somehow this lifetime will not end with a happily ever after. To Blake, after years of uninhibited fornication among Europe's most experienced and sophisticated flirts, he suddenly felt that he was where he should be. Where he belonged.

As if his hand had a mind of its own, Blake reverently brushed the backs of his fingers along Diana's smooth cheek, tracing her jaw down to her chin. He began rubbing his thumb lightly against the inviting fullness of her lower lip – the seducer becoming the seduced. He watched her for a long moment, unable to decide.

Diana shuddered from his gentle caresses. She could see his inner battle playing out on his face. She felt his desire. She felt his confusion. She felt him exert his stubborn will to curb his passion. And she felt the exact moment when the 'darker' side won.

Yielding to his impulse, Blake lowered his head and captured her mouth with his in a kiss that had Diana's knees weakening and her pulse soaring. When his hands moved up and down her sides, thumbs grazing the outer sides of her breasts, Diana moaned into his mouth. Blake deepened the kiss, tongue delving, demanding more and at the same time, selflessly giving. His lips seared her skin as his mouth moved from her lips down to her neck, hands sliding down along her back and sides, tightening around her like bands of iron, pressing her insistently against his rigid body.

"I wonder what Hippolyta would think if she found out that her precious daughter was cavorting with a man."

With a gasp, Diana tore herself from Blake's embrace. In a blink of an eye, she drew her sword and jumped between him and the newcomers.

"Eris!" Diana hissed.

"What the bloody – " Blake sputtered. He relaxed his instinctive hold on the handle of his duelling pistol when he recognized the couple standing in front of him despite their masked faces. "Lady Louisa, Lord Crowley."

"They are not who you think they are," Diana said with a warning tone.

"Come now, Diana," Eris gave an irritated tsk. "Surely, this is not the way you greet family."

Diana gritted her teeth. "I don't know what you are talking about."

"Oh…" the dark-haired goddess gave her a look of mock sympathy. "That's right… You really don't know, do you… cousin?"

The corners of Diana's eyes tightened with suspicion. "I don't know what game both of you are playing, Eris. But it ends now."

"Or what?" Eris challenged with a mirthless laugh. "You may be the Amazon champion but do you really think you can best the two of us?" she gestured at her brother, Deimos, who bared his teeth in a menacing smile.

"What is going on here?" Blake demanded.

"Ah, the bastard son," Eris' sneered, transferred her mocking gaze to him. "I wonder… what is it with you that has our princess eating out of the palm of your hand?"

"Leave him out of this," Diana warned tersely.

"You are too late," Eris said with a fake congenial smile. "Things have been set into motion. You can no longer stop me. You might as well give up."

"Never."

The Goddess of Discord's face turned hard. "Well, in that case…"

"Come now," Blake stepped out from behind Diana. His charming smile belied the tension that he felt. Every muscle in his body was coiled for action, his mind in a turmoil trying to figure out what was going on. "Clearly, there has been a misunderstanding here. Perhaps we can settle this in a more civilized manner?"

Everything started to happen at once. Without warning, Lord Crowley lunged at Blake.

"No!" Diana yelled. Blake nimbly sidestepped as Diana's sword flashed through the air.

Lord Crowley's agonized screamed rang through the night as the sharp blade cut through the bone and sinew of his forearm. Without missing a beat, Diana spun around and drove her sword into his back. Lord Crowley slumped lifeless to the ground.

"Deimos!" Eris shrieked.

"Diana, what have you done?" Blake stared at her in horror.

Diana ignored him. She pointed her sword at Eris. "You are coming with me."

"Like Hades I am," Eris snarled. She spun around and ran.

Diana started to run after the errant goddess but Blake grabbed her by the arm. "You're not going anywhere."

"Let me go!" Diana effortlessly wrenched her arm from Blake's grasp and darted away. After several steps, she felt herself getting jerked backwards.

"What in Tartarus…?" Diana looked down in disbelief. Her own lasso was wound tightly around her upper arms and trunk. She whirled around, her eyes shooting icy daggers at Blake.

"Let me go!" Diana exclaimed in exasperation. She struggled against the unbreakable bonds. "She's getting away!"

With a tight grip on the lasso, Blake started to pull Diana toward him. "I will not have you kill Lady Louisa like you did Lord Crowley."

"I did not kill him," Diana retorted. She grabbed on to her end of the lasso and pulled. Her eyes widened in surprise when she suddenly felt her strength start to ebb away, as if it was slowly receding into the earth. _Great Gaea, what is going on?_

"You cut off his arm and drove a sword through his spine," Blake growled accusingly.

"It might have stung a little," Diana scoffed. "But I did not kill him."

"What manner of cold-hearted creature are you?!" Blake regarded her as if she sprouted another head. _She's an assassin_ , he thought. _My dream was warning me against her._

"You said so yourself, Blake," Diana tried yanking the lasso again but to no avail. "I am the Princess of the Amazons. And I am on a mission for the goddess Aphrodite."

Blake scowled at her. "You would have me believe that mythology is real? You must take me for a fool." _And yet, here you are, looking for aliens at the king's behest_ , a small voice reminded him. He shrugged off the thought. "I will not let you kill Lady Louisa, not if I can help it."

"She is not this 'Lady Louisa' of yours," a frustrated sigh escaped Diana's lips. "She is Eris, Goddess of Discord."

"Do you really expect me to believe that?"

"Fine," Diana lifted her chin, standing nose to nose with Blake. "If you refuse to believe me, then explain that." She jerked her head toward where Lord Crowley fell.

Keeping a tight grip on the lasso, Blake angled himself to get a better look at the noble's 'corpse.' His jaw dropped when it slowly dematerialized into thin air.

 _Bloody hell…_

* * *

"Good evening, sir," Alastair Michael Bennington intoned with a small bow as he opened the door to Blake's home at Upper Brook Street in the exclusive Central London district of Mayfair. "I was not expecting you until much…"

The dignified manservant bit back a cry of surprise when Blake stalked into the house dragging behind him a woman who looked vexed beyond belief. "… Later."

"We will be in the library, Alastair," Blake told him in a crisp business-like voice. "I am not home to any callers."

"Very well, Master Blake," Alastair inclined his head, keeping his features perfectly composed. He studied the beautiful woman discreetly, unable to match her face with a name. It was said that skilled butlers, in the course of fulfilling of their duties, have developed the ability to judge a person's character at a glance. While Alastair was more of a paid companion than a butler, the same ability extended to him. Alastair was convinced that the woman was certainly not one of Blake's acquaintances in the _ton_ , otherwise, she would have been properly chaperoned, especially at this time of the evening. Her coloring was clearly not English – the lovely olive tone of her skin suggested that she was of Mediterranean descent. She had an aura of authority around her that bespoke of aristocracy.

 _She is most definitely not a woman of questionable repute_ , Alastair thought decisively. It was never his employer's habit to bring any of his paramours home – let alone one whose wrists were tied up securely with a golden rope. And despite the ferocious scowl that marred her otherwise flawless features, Alistair instinctively knew that she was goodness personified and was quite certain that she somehow had a pivotal role in Blake's life.

Blake slammed the library door shut and deposited Diana on a leather chair. He resisted the urge to pour himself a glass of brandy. He needed all his wits about him. Securely winding his end of the lasso around his right hand, he sat opposite her and regarded her with narrowed eyes. He had earlier divested her of her sword, which he now placed on the table beside him. He leaned back and placed a booted ankle on his knee. Despite the civilized elegance of his well-tailored evening clothes and his seemingly relaxed position, he had never looked more dangerous, more overpowering.

"Talk," he ordered brusquely.

Diana bristled at his insolent tone but maintained her stony silence. She was still trying to figure out what happened to her powers. _It has to be the lasso_ , she thought. _No matter. I learned how to take care of myself long before I was given super strength._

"I said – _talk_ ," Blake enunciated giving the rope a firm tug, willing her to divulge her secrets.

Diana felt a small spurt of panic. She felt Blake's determination, urging her to tell him everything. She closed her eyes and concentrated.

 _Willpower is a very formidable weapon, Diana, Queen Hippolyta said as she presented her daughter with the golden lariat. This is the Lasso of Truth. With it, you can compel anybody to do your bidding, to tell you no lies. The key to all our gifts is willpower. It has been and always will be mind over matter. Strength of body amounts to nothing if the will is weak. Remember that always, Diana._

"What sorcery is this?!"

Diana's eyes snapped open in time to see Blake jump to standing, hand convulsing around the lasso. It was glowing. He stared at it as if it was a venomous snake about to strike. She could see that he wanted to throw it down but was loathe to do so lest she escape.

Suppressing a sigh of relief that the lasso at least was not working against her totally, she stood up keeping her movements slow and non-threatening. Her own hand curled around the lasso as she covered the few steps that separated her from Blake.

"Let me go and I will tell you what you need to know," Diana said softly. _Trust me._ The lasso blazed as she exerted her will on Blake. It shone brighter still as Blake fought her subliminal suggestion with his own steadfast resolve.

"Please, Blake," Diana cajoled, never breaking eye contact. _Trust me._

A muscle ticked in Blake's jaw. She could feel him waver. "How do I know that you won't try anything nasty if I do?"

"If I wanted to, I would have done so already." _Trust me._ "We can help each other."

"You presume that I need any form of assistance from you?" Blake scoffed.

"You would not have brought me here otherwise," Diana pointed out. _Trust me._

The tick-tock of the grandfather clock was all that could be heard while the two engaged in a silent battle of wills.

 _Trust her... Don't trust her_ … the voices in Blake's head had a heated debate. _She will be the end of you… She can explain what's going on… She is dangerous… You saw how easily she can kill… Trust me… Don't… Trust… Trust… Don't…_

Finally, Blake took a deep breath, instinct winning over logic. _I have to trust her... For now,_ he thought. Aloud, he said, "Fine. But the second you even _think_ of escaping, this goes back on."

Diana rolled her eyes irreverently before she could stop herself.

"Impertinent chit," Blake mumbled as he deftly loosened the knots around Diana's wrists. He carefully placed the lasso beside the sword, well out of her reach. Diana clenched and unclenched her fists when she felt her super strength slowly suffusing her muscles.

"Ahem."

Blake and Diana turned and saw Alistair by the door.

"I took the liberty of preparing refreshments," Alistair said in a bland tone, nodding at the tray in his hands laden with a plate of sandwiches and a pot of tea. "It goes a long way in making our _guests_ feel welcome – _especially_ the ladies."

Blake's full lips twisted at Alistair's bald reminder to be civil. He motioned for loyal manservant to place the silver tray on the table. Alistair complied then bowed out of the room.

Diana settled back down on her seat and watched Blake pour tea into a cup. She inclined her head and murmured her thanks when Blake offered her the drink. He made his way over to his own seat then gave her a prompting look.

"Tell me everything," he ordered. "Please," he added in a milder tone when he saw the censorious look on her face.

"Everything?" she smiled.

Blake nodded curtly.

"My name is Diana of Themyscira. Suffice to say, what I am about to tell you should remain between the two of us. A long time ago…" she began to tell her tale. She told him about the Amazons and how they came to be. Blake listened intently, his sharp intellect analyzing every bit of information being told, his well-honed instincts looking out for any sign of deception on Diana's part. She ended her story with an explanation about her mission for Aphrodite. Blake felt that she was indeed telling the truth, fantastical as it may seem… except…

"Is that all?" He asked pointedly. _She's holding something back…_

"I've told you everything that is relevant right here and right now," Diana said truthfully. A part of her wanted to tell him about _their_ story but wisdom cautioned her against it. _Too much, too soon_ , she decided.

Trying to prevent him from delving further, Diana asked her own question. "And you Blake? What secrets do you hide?"

Blake hesitated, once again questioning the wisdom of his decision to trust her… _Hell_ , he thought dispassionately. _One bizarre story for another._ With a deep breath, he took the plunge. "King George has tasked me to find out who is plotting against him. I suspect that this has something to do with the recent uprisings that we've had in the colonies. If left unchecked, this could lead to a war. The catch is – the king thinks that an extraterrestrial is behind all this. I know it sounds a tad unbelievable but…" he trailed off when he saw the expression of amusement on Diana's face. "What's so funny?"

"You found it very difficult to believe in the existence of my gods but you would believe in alien life forms just because your king says so," Diana smirked.

"Up until this point, I did not believe in any of those," Blake admitted sheepishly. Her musical laughter hit him like a blow to the head. "I just deduced that whoever was behind this scheme would…" His eyes widened when he realized something. "What if…"

"… It was Eris all along?" Diana finished for him.

"It would make sense."

"Then, you are duty-bound to tell your king," Diana made a move to stand up. "While I must go and continue my hunt."

Blake held up his hand and shook his head. "I wish it was that simple, Diana." _The sooner I'm done with this case, the sooner I can find out what you are hiding from me._

"Why not?" Diana arched an eyebrow. _The sooner I capture Eris, the sooner I can decide if you should know about us._

"Lady Louisa Stuart is able to influence King George because she is his closest childhood friend," Blake explained. "He will not accept any accusations without infallible proof."

Diana bit her lower lip in contemplation. The small, innocent movement reminded Blake that those same lips were against his just hours ago. He shifted in his chair in an effort to conceal his instantaneous physical reaction.

"Then we have to find the _real_ Lady Louisa and capture Eris," Diana thought out loud.

Blake nodded in agreement. "That is _if_ Lady Louisa is still alive."

Diana met his somber stare unblinkingly. "There is always hope."


End file.
